


Death's Gift

by DemolishedbyNeglect



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animal Abuse, Dumbledore's Army, First Time, M/M, Out of Character, Romance, Temporary Character Death, Unconventional Disciplinary Methods, taking care of children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-27 21:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 98,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemolishedbyNeglect/pseuds/DemolishedbyNeglect
Summary: Harry and the DA investigate the deaths in small Muggle town on the edge of Forest of Dean. Unlikely companion joins Harry on his quest and together they must take on life's challenges in a post-war Magical Britain, while unlucky circumstances put Harry's life in danger.





	1. Chapter 1

It was month after the final battle of Hogwarts when the DA meeting commended. It took place in Three Broomsticks, in Hogsmeade, and Harry went because his friends would be there. He was getting pretty sick of funerals and he was looking forward to doing something other than mourning. Everybody was picking up the pieces after the war and many of them needed help with fixing their village and the people who were damaged in the war. It was Neville's idea really. He proposed they come together again to help the common folk, the strangers, their neighbors, while the Ministry was still in shambles after the war. Most of them agreed.

It started with Hermione choosing to delegate them on their first group mission. The Gloucestershire was being attacked by all kinds of magical animals. There was speculation that Death Eaters had a secret breeding place for deadly animals, to be used in the war, right in the Forest of Dead. How Harry, Ron and Hermione were so lucky as to never stumble by it by accident was a mystery.

Harry apparated right to the Forest of Dean underneath his Invisibility cloak. He was near the town called Coleford. He has been going in and out of the house for the past month under the guise of his cloak.

Not at first.

His first shopping at Diagon Alley was a disaster _._

_People hounded him from all sides._

_“Here, look, it's a Harry Potter!” the first scream came._

_Then it was a chaos of people yelling and speaking in his ear, patting him on the back and asking for an autograph. He escaped by apparating right under their noses. He wasn't ungrateful, but too many people right now couldn't meet them without bursting into tears and proclaiming their undying gratitude to him. He was touched at first, but he got sick of it after a dozen of times._

_The past month after the battle had him hiding in Grimmauld's place and venturing to an endless stream of funeral. Until he learnt, that Snape had been discovered in the Shrieking Shack, alive. He rushed to the man’s bedside in the secret wing of St Mungo's, where Snape has been resting in a magical coma._

_His first visit lasted only fifteen minutes. He took in the severe silence of the room, the clean while tiles on the floor, the iron bed. It took him a minute before he found the courage to look at Snape's face. The wheezing sound coming from the man’s throat was terrifying. Snape's whole neck was wrapped in yellow bandages. They smelled sharply of herbs. His face was gray with purplish bruises under his closed eyelids._

_Snape was dressed in white hospital pajamas with blue triangles on i. Too large for his bony frame. Harry sat there, awkward and tense, battling the words trying to tear away from his throat. He was sure he would scream if he opened his mouth. “Liar” he wanted to scream “Two faced bastard”. But he was out of the door before he could let his emotions get best of him._

_The second visit happened after Fred's funeral. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have not had enough money to have the funerals right away, so they let Fred's body rest under the stasis charm, while they gathered the necessary sum. Harry stayed until after the funeral meal. He didn't cry, but he and Hermione were right beside Ron all the way through ceremonies. Ginny stood beside her mother, sobbing and holding Mrs. Weasley's hand. He offered them his condolences, but it desperately seemed like not enough._

_He went to Snape's bedside right after. He apparated without thinking  and was through Snape's door before he stopped and considered where he was going. The Potions Master was still there, blissfully alive and in that moment Harry was no longer angry at him. Fooling him into thinking the man is a traitor and a murderer was no longer relevant. Now Harry was grateful Snape was simply breathing, as frail as the sound of it may be._

_His chest was rising and falling in an even tempo and Harry took his hand and buried his face in Snape's open palm. “Survive,” he said. “No matter what it takes, you have to keep fighting. You're not finished. We're not finished, Snape, and you know it” Snape's hand was steady and cool. It didn't move. His fingers were long and bony, his nails neatly trimmed, the skin of his hands no longer stained by the potions. He must have not brewed at all in past year, Harry realized._

_After that he visited Snape every day. He sat at his bedside looking at the gaunt face and flat hair, until he was overcome with guilt. He learned every curve of Snape's face and when he couldn't bear to look at the man's face, he studied his hands. This continued for two weeks until one day he came to an empty bedside, only to learn, Snape has come out of his coma and was taken to Hogwarts by McGonagall. It turned out, the strong wards of the castle could help to sustain the Headmaster and even aid his recovery._

_It was a difficult task at these trying times to be optimistic in the face of such immense loss. But Harry figured someone had to do it. This is why, when Neville mailed them to come and meet at three Broomsticks, he accepted the invitation and listened to his idea. The Ministry hadn't appointed a new Minister yet and it was run by the Aurors now. They were hunting criminals and appointing trials, while the rest of magical law enforcement lagged behind._

_Harry wanted to help. After Snape had been stolen right under his nose, his heart felt unmoored, at sea. He no longer had the cause to rally behind and didn't want one. But he needed hope, he needed to help._

Harry walked through forest in determined stride. Until he got a bit lost. He wandered unbothered by aimless walking. He needed a help clear his head anyway. How strange, he'd come to rely on his daily visits to Snape's hospital room.

“ _You know,” he told the unconscious man, “You and I are not so different. You wouldn't agree with me, I know, but it remains to be true. Hogwarts was an escape for both of us, lonely boys, with nothing but their wits to help them succeed.” He frowned “But of course Headmaster favored me. Merlin, it drove you wild when he wouldn't give us a proper detention for our misbehavior”_

_Sometimes he talked to Snape about himself. “There's too much Death, all around us. I'm so sorry, I wasn't there to help you. I thought you were dead. I can't believe you hanged on for hours, until McGonagall went after your body. I've let everybody down. Was it wise to let the students battle for me? The horcruxes were the only thing on my mind. I feel guilty, Snape.”_

Eventually he found the edge of the forest. He took his wand and let it point in the direction of apparition coordinates. He pulled off his cloak, hid it in his bag, and proceeded in the direction the wand had shown him. It took him ten minutes of walking before he spotted a human figure in the clearing. A very red headed someone. Harry's stomach gave an unpleasant jolt. The last thing he wanted now is to have a conversation with still grieving Ginny. The only real loss he experienced was Sirius, but he remembered the quiet desperation and wrath he stewed in before the grief eased out.

But the girl was taller than Ginny and had more shapely figure. He was surprised to recognize Susan Bones, his year, if he recalled correctly, Hufflepuff. She's changed quite a lot since the last time he saw her.

“Hi, Harry,” she spoke first.

“Susan, hi,” at her surprised face Harry asked, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I just didn't think you'd know my name.”

“Well, we've spent six ears attending the same classes. And we were together in the Dumbledore's Army. It would be strange for me not to. Remember “Constant Vigilance!”

She released a laughter and gestured for him to follow her. They walked shoulder to shoulder and she turned to him. “Remember, Lockhart? I've had such a crush!”

Harry smiled “Not only you, but Hermione too.”

Susan smiled back. “It's so strange to reminisce. You weren't so popular in Hufflepuff during our fourth year, you realize. We rallied so hard behind Cedric. It's seems so silly to think about it now... All of these lives lost, and his was the first. I had bit of crush on him too… I think we all did back then.”

Harry was carried away from his dark thoughts by the sight before him. The members of DA were standing at the edge of the forest, talking animatedly and laughing. They spotted Harry and Susan and Harry hear them cheer.

“Harry, mate, you graced us with your presence!” beamed Seamus.

“Don't be a twat,” Angelina said.

George, Harry noticed, was absent. Ginny smiled at him, but didn't come closer.

Hermione came to his side with Ron in tow. “Hello, Harry.”

“We've been wondering if you'd show up,” said Ron. “And if you would – if we would be able to see you. Cuz’ you keep walking around in your cloak.”

“What cloak?” asked Luna.

“Hi, Luna” Harry said embarrassed. “Nothing special. Just an ordinary cloak. Ron's simply not making any sense, as usual.” He glared in Ron's direction.

The next half an hour had passed with them deciding to interview the villagers in groups. Ginny wanted to be in one group with Harry, was left with Hermione, Ron and Cho Chang. Each of them started with their section of the little town to interview. Hermione had a map prepared for every group.

The first house they went to nobody answered the door. The second house was a charming old structure with white walls and wooden overlaps. They knocked at the the door and there was a quick shuffle of who was going to stand by the door, fought between Ron, Harry and Cho. Hermione stepped in. The door finally opened.

“Young men. How can I help you?” a woman in a grey apron smiled pleasantly at them.

“Hello. We're a group of journalists with a school paper. We're here to write an article about mystery disappearances,” Hermione lied easily. Harry marveled at how good she had become at deception. “If you maybe have five minutes for a quick interview?”

“Who's is this?!” someone bellowed from upstairs.

“It's about the neighbors,” yelled the woman back. She turned to Hermione. “Of course, I got time. My name is Evelyn Emery and yours will be?” The woman looked surprisingly pleased with herself.

“I'm Hermione, this is Ron, Harry, and Cho.”

Mrs. Emery offered them tea, which made Ron brighten up. Hermione refused the cup. They all have sat in a spacious living room with pastel yellow walls, covered in blue cornflower. Hermione put her bushy hair back and prepared to listen. She had a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other.

“We've heard about mysterious disappearances, what can you tell me about them?”

“Well. The Holders and Spicers then. Lennie Holders, he has disappeared right under his wife's nose. Him and Jennis were sleeping, and when she woke, he simply wasn't there. I'd say he ran out on her in the dead of the night, but all of his things were left undisturbed. And you know what? His funds were not touched!”

“And the Spicers?”

“Absolutely the same story, only it's the wife who's disappeared. The poor woman could barely walk after the floo. She could not walk out of her house in the dead of the night, believe me. It's a kidnapping I think. But, you know what's strange?”

They all made an effort to look attentive.

“There were no calls about a ransom! Nothing! It's most bizarre.”

“Mrs. Emery, have you perhaps noticed anything strange or out of the ordinary in the village?” Cho asked. Hermione shot her a grateful look.

“Strange? No, nothing I can think of. No strange men, although with things happening, there must have been _some_. But no, I didn't saw anyone.”

They excused themselves and headed off to the next house. They visited a couple of houses more, with the same results and headed off to the edge of the forest.

Strange thing, next to the last house, Harry was sure he saw a figure painfully similar to Snape in his teaching robes. How odd.

The DA arranged a meeting to take place right before the lunch. It must have been something, to see of them all disappear from the edge of the forest, as they apparated to the Three Broomsticks.

When they exchanged the stories they gathered, it went something like this. There was a folk named Lennie, who disappeared one night from his house. He and his wife were sleeping and then Bam! She wakes up without him. A lad had seen a black ghost strolling down the street. There was a mysterious disease that caught half the village. The people were convinced it was from anti flu vaccines they took right before. A person confessed to seeing a spiky Lion. There were a man and an old grandma found in a forest dead, no signs of any injury on both of them.

Madam Rosmerta told them to either order or leave. Some of the guys grumbled about spending too much on drinks. Hermione had a thoughtful look in her eye and Harry knew she figured something out.

“A spiky lion, that must have been Nundu,” she took a sip of her coffee. “The breath of Nundu could lay waste to an entire village. They carry diseases, Harry.”

“Yeah, but are you sure the lad didn't just imagine a spiky lion?” inserted Dead.

“It's more like a leopard. You see, the mysterious disease is a clue. The people must have thought it was the vaccine, that making them sick, but it was probably the vaccine, that has stopped the Nundu's breath from becoming deadly.”

“What about mysterious disappearances?” Padma asked.

“I'm not sure, I don't know about those.” Hermione cast an apologetic look at Harry. “Our Care of Magical Creatures didn't quite teach us to be prepared for this kind of circumstance.”

“I wish Newt Scamander was here,” Susan said.

“Those two bodies in the forest mean something very dangerous lurks there. We have to be careful,” warned Ron.

“Yeah, but those were muggles,” Padma answered. “Surely, we can stand up for ourselves”.

“I agree with Ron,” Harry objected. “Whatever is out there is dangerous enough to kill. We already have to be on a lookout for a Nundu. We have to corner it and petrify it together. That reminds me, when we go out into the forest, the next time, if someone sees something, you have to give the others a sign, so we can apparate to you. And don't engage with anything before others arrive.”

Ernie had a very peculiar expression on his face. “Sure we want do this?”

Harry looked at everyone's faces.

“Those poor muggles need our help.”

But it wasn't Harry who'd spoken. It was Neville.

“If you don't want risk it, that's fine. But while everybody at the Ministry is too busy chasing Death Eaters and arranging trials, there's nobody out here to find that damn place where the animals were being bred. Think about all the mysterious deaths and disappearances. The rumor must be true.”

After that, they all agreed that something must be done. And some of the guys and girls have said their goodbyes, while Ron, Harry and Hermione stayed and ordered their lunch. Harry was exiting the pub, after saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione, when familiar figure stopped him. A thin hand sneaked around his arms and he found himself face to face with Mrs. Figg.

“Harry! How lovely it is to see you.”

Harry felt a genuine smile forming on his lips. “Mrs. Figg.”

She leaned in as if to tell him a secret. “Congratulations on your victory, young man. I've always believed in you.”

“Thank you Mrs. Figg. What brings you in Hogsmeade?”

“Just a meeting with a friend. She'll be here shortly to apparate me back home. Terribly inconvenient to be a squib, let me tell you. Tell me Harry, have you met Dursleys recently?”

Harry was surprised at the change of subject. “No, I haven't. Why?”

“To tell them the You-Know-Who is dead, of course!”

“But, Mrs. Figg, why would they care?”

The woman released a heavy sigh. “Harry, my dear, I know how this family had terribly mistreated you. All of these years I was forced to watch as you've worn that spoiled boy's hand-me-downs and couldn't utter a word. But now, let me tell you, you need to tell these muggles that all is safe. At least, that terrible aunt of yours. Even though none of them deserve it.”

Truthfully, he hadn't even thought about Dursleys at all for all the past year. It certainly would never occur to him to tell aunt Petunia, that Voldemort was dead, if Mrs. Figg hadn't brought it up. If he really thought about it, it did make sense to tell them, he supposed. He could write a letter, but send it through the postal office. God forbid what uncle Vernon would think about an owl in his house.

He bid farewell to Mrs. Fig and went home. As soon as he stepped through the door, he realized an Order meeting was taking place. Who else would need the old house? Grimmaulds was as gloomy and uninviting as ever, but there was unmistakable murmur and occasional laughter coming from the living room. Harry went to say hello and was greeted by Kingsley. He saw quite a few new faces there.

“Hello, Harry, hope we're not intruding on your privacy. But since Weasleys are going through terrible loss, I thought we could use Grimmauld Place, again, for our meetings.”

“It's fine, Kingsley. I really don't mind. But why are you gathering the Order now?”

“We're hunting the remaining Death Eaters, Harry,” Kingsley followed the boy's curious gaze to the strangers in a room. “As you've seen the Order has grown quite a lot during your hiding. Desperate times show us who our true allies are. These are few my colleague's here, let me introduce them to you.”

Harry had to shake hands with two very tall wizards and one stodgy one. He was also introduced to the rest of the new Order members and even recognized Dedalus Diggle. It seemed the meeting was finished, and as wizards and witches shook his hand, they also said their goodbyes and departed each in their own direction.

Harry thought about how now that Snape was revealed to be their ally, Sirius's house was safe again. That led him to think about Snape and his own strange reaction to the man.

_He stared at Snape's face until he learned every line. His mouth was especially unforgiving, its corners turned down, as if Snape was miserable. Harry looked and looked. His skin had a yellow tinge to it, Snape's lips had no color at all to them. Following his instincts Harry touched his finger to the corner of Snape's mouth. The man didn't wake. Then he traced a line on Snape's lips, from one corner to the next. What was he doing? Why the sudden fascination with Snape's mouth? He knew the man would only be cruel and unforgiving towards him. And yet, he couldn't help, but wonder._

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by the chiming of the clock. He could send letter to the Dursleys or he could go to Privet drive tomorrow, and deliver the news in person. At least it would distract him from mooning over Snape, like a teenage girl. It is decided, he thought. Tomorrow he would go to Dursleys.

Thankfully uncle Vernon wasn’t home when his aunt opened the door. To Harry's endless surprise Petunia offered him some tea. It was terribly awkward. She tried her hardest not to look at him and even though he tried to put on his nicest outfit, he still felt like he had worn something very unseemly.

“Voldemort is dead.”

“He killed Lily didn't he?” his aunt drank her tea and there was a genuine emotion on her face.

“Yes, but he's gone now. Vanquished. It's safe again in Magical Britain, and you and Dudley are safe too.”

“They've apprehended and executed him then, that criminal?”

“Umm... Not exactly,” paused Harry. “There was a battle at Hogwarts and he was defeated.”

“Battle? At school? That world is terribly unsafe,” the woman pursed her lips. “You should not stay in it.”

“Aunt Petunia, I've just come to say you don't have to be worried now.”

The woman’s hands clenched in fists. There was anger in her eyes and for a moment she looked positively wrathful. “The justice has been served then. I wondered how long it would take.”

When she led him to the door, she even attempted an awkward hug. It didn't last even for second, but Harry was grateful for her effort. In the end, he could have sent her a letter, but it was worth it to see his aunt still cared what happened to his mum's murderer. He went down the street to Mrs. Figgs house to thank her for the idea and see how she was doing. Might as well visit her, since he's in the area.

Mrs. Figg was dressed in long flowery dress, so unlike her, Harry blanched for a moment, when he saw her.

“Ah, Harry, come in, come in,” there was a large blue suitcase waiting in the hallway.

“Mrs. Figg, are you're going somewhere?”

“New Zealand, my dear. A trip I've planned for years!”

Somehow the conversation stirred to the crowd Mrs. Figg saw with him in Three Broomsticks.

“It's the DA, Dumbledore's Army. We've organized to teach ourselves the defence spells when Umbridge held the Defence Against The Dark Arts position. We're working on a project together. Sort of.”

“I've heard you need a place to gather, that is not a pub. May I suggest my house? Someone has to look after my lovely kittens. Look, let me introduce them for you, this is Mr. Chubbs,” she gestured at the fat white cat, “Mrs. Tails,” a black kitten, “and Mr. Stubbins,” an orange cat, that reminded Harry of Crookshanks.

 _“_ Are you sure Mrs. Figg? How long will you be gone?”

 _“_ Almost three months, my dear. You may use my house for your meetings, but you must promise to come here to feed my lovelies, even if you're busy. I was planning on leaving them on Mr. Downey, but that old man can't be trusted to look after my precious kitties.”

“That's awfully nice of you, but I really don't want to impose,” Harry was reluctant to agree because he didn't want to leech on woman's kindness.

“Oh, hush! I want to do some good too. Not all of us can be heroes charging into the battles with their wands out. I'm going to have a time of my life, this is the least I can do. The house will be empty and of no use to anyone and my kitties will be lonely without me.”

Harry considered it. He really didn’t want to entertain the DA at his house, when the Order meetings still took place there. This was a very attractive option.

“Okay, Mr. Figg, I'll watch your cats for you.” Harry was happy to find a place for DA meetings, even if he needed to apparate here to feed the woman's cats every other day.

“Wonderful!” she threw her hands in the air. “Here, come. Let me show you where I keep the cat food.”

Mrs. Figg escorted him around the house and fifteen minutes later he was out the door with spare pair of keys, although he could probably use Alohomora to get into the house. He reasoned he already had the permission to do so. But it was nice to have the keys as an official confirmation. Harry apparated back home and sent a quick Patronus with the news to Hermione.

They had a place for DA meetings.

The next they heard about Gloucestershire and Coleford specifically, was after another residents disappearance. Right from their bed, dead in the night. The DA agreed to meet at Mrs. Figg’s early in the morning. They gathered at Mrs. Figg’s front porch and waited until the others were there to enter the house.

Susan Bones yelped, “Cats!”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you guys about them. Mrs. Figg wanted us to look after her three cats, Mr. Chubbs, Mrs. Tails and Mr. Stubbins,” Harry said pointing at different cats.

“I'm Allergic!” the girl cried.

They stayed there for two hours, until Hermione sectioned the forest routes for them to cover. Each group has been assigned their own area to search first. Ernie was very adamant about not being in the same group as Ron, Harry or Hermione. “No offence to you guys, but the trouble seems to find you wherever you are”.

“We're hunting dangerous animals Macmillan, surely getting into trouble is the entire point,” Dead interrupted, while Ginny shot him a grateful look.

Harry and Ginny still haven't had the time to be alone and now Harry was trying to avoid her gaze. After they've finished with the map and divided each other into groups, they've set on a date. Harry insisted they start the search right then. Since they all were free to do as wished in the summer, they've agreed to start immediately. Harry was suddenly grateful none of them landed a job after the graduation. If final battle could be called such.

They were about to leave, when Dudley appeared. Harry had the most surreal moment standing among his friends and facing his former bully.

 _“_ Hi there,” the boy said shyly.

“Dudley,” Harry tried to conceal his discomfort. He turned to his friends, “Everybody, this my cousin Dudley.” He turned to the bigger boy, “Dudley, these are my friends.”

Susan Bones actually extended her hand to Dudley and the boy blushed unprettily. He shook her hand, then turned to Harry and gave him a pointed look. What did Dudley want with Harry anyway? Harry excused himself and went outside with his cousin.

“You're alive, huh,” started Dudley.

“Yes.”

“Didn't think you’d have that many friends,” said Dudley timidly.

Harry decided to cut to the chase. “How did you know we're here anyway?”

 _“_ The neighbor saw you come in and called my mom,” the bigger boy sighed. “Mom said you came around. So,” the boy put his hands in his pockets. “I'm glad you're alright. Wanted to see for myself if, maybe, some limbs are missing.”

Dudley was joking Harry realized. He smiled.

When Harry and the others departed, it was very loud commotion. Although they apparated to the same coordinates, they all landed quite randomly. Some few feet from each other, others landed even farther.

 _“_ Look,” pointed Luna at the black flowers scattered around them. “It's Potens Mortis blooming!”

 _“_ Rubbish. Potens Mortis only blooms on graves of powerful wizards,” Hermione retorted.

Neville was already fondling one flower lovingly. “No, Luna is right Hermione. It's Potens Mortis. Though it's already wilting. Most peculiar.”

 _“_ Why peculiar?” Ron asked.

 _“_ Because, as Hermione said, it only blooms on graves of powerful wizards. The powerful magical energy of death and decay is necessary for it to bloom. It shouldn't be blooming in a forest. What a mystery.”

 _“_ I'm creeped out,” said Dean in a cheery voice. “Is anybody creeped out?”

 _“_ Mystery or not, we've got a task to do. Lets split up like we've been planning to.”

Harry was paired with Dean, Cho and Luna. They wondered for half an hour before Harry started to feel strange. Like he was being watched. The cold creeped into his bones, even though it was summer. He walked distracted, not paying attention to the conversation around him. When the silence stretched for more than ten minutes he looked around, only to realize, he's lost his companions. He was alone in the forest. There were no signs of his friends anywhere near. He must have split from the group.

He saw a movement behind the trees and bolted in that direction. Maybe his friends were near. His feet caught on snag and he tumbled down. Last thing he remembered was sudden sharp pain in his temple, right before he was out. He came to a voice that sounded very displeased.

 _“_ Insufferable idiot. Couldn't watch where you were going, could you?”

Harry opened his eyes and was greeted to sight of haggard looking Snape.

 _“_ Snape!” he croaked. “What are you doing here?”

 _“_ Saving your sorry ass again, it seems, Mr. Potter,” Snape voice was quiet and raspy. There was yellow bandage around his throat and he looked like death warmed over. His skin was sallow and his hair oily and flat. There were deep circles under his eyes.

 _“_ Am I dreaming?” Harry asked in absolute awe. After so many days thinking about Snape, the man had appeared out of nowhere in Dean's forest. This had to be a dream. And if he was dreaming, he wasn't complaining. Sure, Snape looked awful, but the very sight of him raised Harry's spirits. Harry smiled beatifically at illusion.

 _“_ You hit your empty head too hard in seems,” Snape said flatly.

The man helped him up and even brushed the dust and small leaves from his robes. This was a very corporeal Snape, Harry was beginning to realize. He still smelled sharply of hospital herbs and concoctions, no doubt an odor coming from his bandage. Harry found it strangely comforting.

His head throbbed insistently. He winced and Snape noticed.

“Any dizziness?”

“No, I'm fine,” Harry looked into the dark eyes. “Christ, you look awful Snape.”

“I'm well aware of how I look Mr. Potter,” the man snarled tiredly.

“How are standing already? I mean who let you get out of bed?”

“Let me? Let me?” Snape appeared deranged for a moment, but then his expression went slack, as if he gave up. “It was McGonagall’s idea, if you must know. Your little rendezvous in Three Broomsticks hadn't gone unnoticed.”

Harry sincerely doubted McGonagall would send a very sick Snape out here play Harry's nanny. He was told she was very concerned about Snape's health and wanted to ensure his best chances at survival. Harry privately thought she might have experienced the same guilt, that plagued him. He didn't show the Potions Master he didn't believe him though. He decided to let the matter go.

Instead Harry told him why the DA was here in the forest in the first place. That they've been searching the woods, when Harry got separated from their group, and how he saw some movement, went rushing after it and fell. Snape raised an eyebrow.

The gesture was so familiar Harry reached out and touched Snape's forearm.

 _“_ Cease touching me. Now,” hissed the man.

 _“_ Sorry,” Harry said muttured. He’d gotten used to touching Snape, when the man lay unconscious. Which was highly inappropriate of him. He was guided by sick fascination, at least that's what Harry told himself. Always buttoned up and collected Snape was a formidable and unapproachable figure, but when he lay in hospital bed in his pajamas, he seemed vulnerable and too human too bear.

Snape looked at him funnily. His face became a stony mask. Then he turned around and started walking. Harry had no choice, but to follow. He was brimming with questions. But since his head still hurt and Snape was, apparently, in no mood for a small talk, he walked behind man in silence.

Then he heard it. Voices screaming, “Harry!” They were coming from a canopy of trees further down the path they were walking. Snape stopped. He gestured for Harry to go first and Harry made a couple of steps forward, only to realize, Snape wasn't following him. He frowned and turned to man.

“Aren't you coming?”

Snape shook his head. He didn't wish to be seen. Harry smiled and mouthed a quiet “Thank you” to the man, and Snape gave him a curt nod. Harry followed the direction of the voices calling for him. He told himself not to look back.

 

***

 

The next time they apparated from Privet Drive again, having chosen new routes for searching. He fed the cats. Harry tried to stick to his group this time. He learned that Ernie had spotted something akin to dark ghost or Dementor the other day in the woods. That was all they have found so far. It's was an unusually hot day and after half an hour Harry started to sweat. He wished he took some water with him. Hermione probably had taken care of the supplies for her group. But that was Hermione, for you. Always prepared.

They searched the forest and Harry was alert every minute of the way. His eyes kept scanning the woods for any sign of movement. He wanted to find something, but more than that his eyes searched for a glimpse of a dark figure. Snape. Who, for all intents and purposes should be lying in bed in Hogwarts, taken care of by mediwitch.

Harry had glimpsed something between the trees. He could hear barely something akin to a roar. He was intent on investigating it and prepared to put on a mask Hermione insisted they all wear, to protect them from a Nundu's breath, when a signal came from other side of the forest. Harry and his group apparated in that direction, meeting with the rest of the DA, standing around a giant unconscious monster.

“It's a troll,” Ernie said surprised.

“He's _huge_ , isn't he,” Ron whistled, saluting Harry.

“Dead or simply unconscious?” Harry crouched close to the creature's neck and tried to find a pulse. He couldn't find any, but maybe the troll's skin was simply too thick. He turned a questioning eye to Hermione.

Instead it was Luna who flicked her wand, “He's passed, I'm afraid.”

The others stepped closer, their curious glances inspecting the troll's clothes. Harry noticed they all had their masks on.

“The smell alone could kill you,” said Alicia. “Do you think that's why he's dead, choked by his own odor?”

People chuckled.

“Doubt it,” smiled Ron. He exchanged a wary glance with Hermione. “Wouldn't want to meet whoever did that to troll.”

Hermione cast a powerful shrinking charm on a body of a troll. In minutes he shrank enough for them to bury him properly. Harry was debating whether to erect a stone on the grave, when he noticed a dark shadow in the woods. His heart jumped. It might have been the dark ghost Ernie spotted before, but maybe, just maybe, it was someone else.

“I'm off for a minute.”

“Nature's call, yeah, Harry?”

His heart hammered in his chest as he walked to something that could possibly spell his doom. He walked and walked, and when he was sure he's just imagined seeing a dark cloak, a hand came out of nowhere to clasp his mouth.

“Not a sound,” Snape whispered. Harry nodded.

“You're here again! God, you love the secrecy, don't you,” Harry said once they put some distance between them and the DA. Snape still looked awful Harry, but at least his hair appeared to be clean now. The man wore his heavy winter robes. How could he survive in them in such heat?

“When you're in my position, you learn to act subtly, instead of barging into situation.”

“It wouldn't be barging in if you simply shown your face to my friends,” Harry said irritated.

“I do not wish to deal with an entire class of dunderheads.”

“Hey! They're not that bad, they're trying to do some good.”

Snape only glared at him. It occurred to Harry suddenly, that although the man's secrecy had made him feel like a fool, he wasn't at all against having Snape's attention be focused on only himself. In fact, now that he thought about it – their privacy granted Harry's wish to get to know the man more.

“You know what – forget it.” Snape looked at him in surprise. “How are you doing? You still don't look too well.”

“I'm perfectly fine,” Snape said curtly.

“How is your neck healing? I know that normal healing magic was useless on Mr. Weasley because of Nagini's venom.”

“Yes. They've had to use stitches.”

Harry came closer to Snape. He wanted to touch the man, but he couldn't muster enough courage to do it. Snape's gaze was guarded and his black eyes focused. No matter how bad he must be feeling, the man was clearly determined to stay sharp.

“Does it hurt?” Harry asked softly.

“It's tolerable,” the man answered quietly.

Snape looked into his eyes and for a second dangerous heat flashed in his gaze. Harry Snape’s  arm. A bolt of electricity passed between them and Harry gasped at the energy of it. It seemed their magic was sympathetic. Snape stepped back and cleared his throat.

“Right,” Harry said coming to his senses. “Speaking of what brings us here: do you know if the rumor, about secret Death Eater place to breed dangerous magical animals, is true?”

Snape inclined his head. “Not just a rumor, as unfortunate as it may be. There was indeed a proposal from one of the fractions, lowly Death Eaters, you realize, to create such place. But I'm unaware if the Dark Lord agreed to it.”

They walked further and further from the members of DA, when Harry heard a deep cultured voice beckoning him closer.

“Come,” it said. “Come here, come closer.”

“Hang on,” he said. “I think someone's calling for me.”

He hesitated, but then a thought about someone in trouble propelled him to move. Harry ran straight through the forest in direction of the voice. Snape was trailing behind him, bewildered by his sudden departure. Harry slowed down, when he realized, Snape was in no condition to run. He turned to the man and shouted.

“Someone is calling me!”

“Potter, you attract trouble!”

They ventured in the direction of the noise. Snape had his wand out, his posture tense and his eyes alert. Maybe, Harry thought, a poor muggle was in trouble. But he got his wand out, to match Snape, anyway. Minutes passed. But now when they moved the voice seemed to go further and further. Harry stopped.

“She's right here, can't you hear it?”

“Potter,” Snape said his voice without any intonation. “You complete and utter moron.”

Harry turned to him offended. But Snape was just standing there with his eyes closed. Harry frowned. Out of corner of his eye, he noticed a tail. A giant green moving tail. Then Snape roared.

“Confundo!”

Harry jumped out of the way, when a Basilisk's tail lunched at him. He sent the sparks and signal to the DA. He kept his eyes down to the earth and ran in Snape's direction.

“Potter, duck!” Harry landed face first into dirt. “Sectumsempra!”

There was an angry hiss. Suddenly a dozen pops of apparition sounded all around them. Heart racing Harry pointed his wand at his throat and whispered the Sonorus charm.

“Don't look him in the eyes! It's a Basilisk!” Harry's warning was carried through the trees.

Snape moved his wand and there was a clear sounding bell, somewhere to Harry's right. Harry saw feet approaching him and it was Snape crouching in front of him on the ground.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Harry bellowed to entire forest. He winced at the Sonorus carrying his voice through the woods.

“Tell them to close their eyes and shoot Petrificus Totalus in the direction of bells on a count of three,” Snape instructed, collected.

Harry did as he was told. He counted from one to three and shouted the words aiming his wand to the sound of the bell. Even his booming voice did not drown out a dozen of Petrifiying charms shouted by the others.

“I think I got him,” screamed Dean from somewhere.

“Again,” Snape said in steely voice.

“One,” Harry continued, “two, three.”

“Petrificus Totalus!” a chorus sounded.

Excited chatter was all around him. Snape only told him again “Again!” in that cool raspy voice. When they were finished, Harry opened his eyes and looked around the forest. He was surrounded by friends and very angry looking Snape. There was an enormous snake lying on the green grass breathing evenly. It had a couple of shallow cuts on it, likely from the Sectumsempra Snape threw at it earlier.

Hermione ran to him and gave him a hug. Ron was close behind her. Harry tried to stand, only to find that his ankle had been hurt. Likely from the jump to the ground. God he was so clumsy. And right in front of the Snape too. As if the man didn't have an already too low opinion of him. He balanced Hermione's hug, standing on one foot.

“What's wrong, Harry?” Hermione looked him over, concerned.

Harry mouthed Finite Incantatem. “Nothing. Just sprained my ankle,” Harry felt himself blush. Nobody else looked hurt. Great.

“Headmaster,” Luna floated closer to them. “I'm glad to see you're feeling better.”

“Ms. Lovegood,” Snape regarded everyone on the ground with cool attention. “Is everybody unhurt?” Affirmative nods and grunts were the only answer. “Check your friends, make sure there are well,” Snape flickered his wand and a graceful doe leapt away from his wand.

Couple of wizards Harry didn’t know apparated to the ground. They wore Ministry robes. Harry tensed. They inspected the snake and talked with Snape. Dirty and sweaty Harry wanted nothing more than to take a shower, but others beckoned him to come with them to Mrs. Figg’s house to celebrate. They've defeated a Basilisk! Instead, Harry opted for waiting for Snape to get free from the wizards.

“Where are you taking her?” Harry asked one of the wizards. He smoothed the hair on his forehead so the man wouldn't see his scar.

“To the south of France, probably” the man replied. “We're the Beast Division of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and this is what we should be taking care of, not the bloody Dementors all over the country.”

“Dementors?”

“Yeah, they've been running free across the isles, after the You-Know-Who has been defeated. Ten summons a day to get rid of the Dementors in your back yard. You banish them from one house, only to drive them away from their neighbors a day later. It's bloody annoying, if you ask me,” the man elaborated.

Harry snorted. He looked to Snape for support and the man moved in his direction. He took Harry's arm unceremoniously and hooked himself over Harry's back, supporting his weight. His right hand landed on Harry hipbone and Harry felt something pleasant flutter in his stomach at the firm touch. How odd.

“You reside at Grimmauld's Place, I presume?” Snape was all but whispering in his ear because of closeness.

Harry shivered. “Yes.”

“Prepare yourself for side-along apparition, then,” Snape pulled him closer. “Careful, don't land on your foot.”

Then Harry felt the familiar squeezing sensation natural for apparition. They've landed on the front porch of the house. The street was empty, thank the Gods. There was a light wind and Harry inhaled the fresh air greedily. After the hot stifled air of the forest, the muggle street felt like a heaven. Snape flicked his wand and the door opened. He and Harry went straight for the stairs, where Harry stopped. He couldn't go up the stairs, without Snape's help and the man barely could stand on his own, because of his injuries.

In the end, Snape cast a Leviosa on him, ignoring Harry glare and the floating Harry was accompanied by Snape guiding hands as they walked upstairs. He gestured for Snape to stop in front of his room and Snape led him through a door, like he would a balloon. Harry released a breath he didn't know he was holding, when Snape took the charm off and landed him neatly on his bed.

“This wasn't embarrassing at all,” Harry declared cheerfully.

Snape simply looked at him. His black eyes glittered. He was amused, Harry sensed. The man crouched beside the bed and took a great care removing Harry shoe from his hurt leg. Harry tried not to wince as gentle careful touch stripped him of his sock too. Snape rolled Harry's trousers up to his knee.

“It might have been worse. Simply a sprained ankle. It seems your luck still holds, Mr. Potter.”

Harry took care of his uninjured leg and soon placed both of his feet on the bed. Snape took his wand and placed a healing charm on his sprained limb. There was icy cold feeling in his injured leg and soon his ankle stopped throbbing. Harry shot a man a grateful look, but Snape looked very exhausted and didn't even notice. The man sat on chair beside the bed. Harry decided he could lead a conversation if Snape was tired.

“Thank you for the help back at the forest. I thought I lost my ability to talk to snakes after Voldemort killed the Horcrux inside me, but is looks like I was mistaken. I've panicked today thinking the snake could hurt you. Can you imagine the irony? Survive one snake bite and be brought down by another?” Harry chuckled. “That would be a bit much. But you spelled a bell onto the Basilisk's neck. That was a great idea. I don't even know how I would've been able to battle a Basilisk alone, if you weren't there, I could have looked right into its eyes and...” Harry looked at Snape and found the man quietly sleeping in the chair.

Right. The man must've been very tired. His body was slumped in a chair, his head thrown back and his arms resting on his knees. He didn't snore. His chest rose in a steady manner. Harry couldn’t' let Snape rest in a chair. He flicked his wand and with barely audible Wingardium Leviosa levitated Snape's body off the chair onto the bed. He pulled the floating man into the blankets, by his cloak. He then arranged his limbs comfortably on the bed.

He longed for a shower, but didn't want to limp back to the bathroom and take the shower standing on one leg. He settled for watching Snape sleep. It look him back to the days he would watch the man in the hospital. He was embarrassed to realize they would probably have to share a bed together. Was it normal to be fascinated by the way someone slept?

His thoughts drifted to how composed the man was under the stressful circumstances. Snape was not the one to lose his cool, when danger came to his door. They were lying there side to side. Well, Harry was sitting on the bed, like it was the most mundane sort off affair. Harry inched a bit closer to the man.

What was he doing?

He placed his head right above Snape's ribcage. The material was surprisingly soft against his cheek. The smell of medical hebrs was sharper here, sweeter. He was met with steady flutter of a heartbeat.

What's gotten into him?

Snape's chest rose slightly with each breath. Harry closed his eyes and listened to the rhythm of life, the beat by which blood and life filled the man's veins. Suddenly he couldn't bear the thought of Snape's lifeless, barely breathing body left in the shack.

But that's how Harry left him.

He swallowed the lump, that's formed in his throat. There was nothing he could do to fix that mistake. Snape had survived despite the fact that everybody forgot about him and moved on to fight in a war. Harry lost so many people in that war.

Despite himself Harry started to get emotional. He felt warm and comfortable as he lay on Snape's chest, but that wasn't it. What he really felt whenever he was close to the man was safe.

And now that feeling made him open and vulnerable and thoughts about Fred and Remus and Dumbledore came to his mind uninvited. He felt a tear roll down and disappear into Snape's cloak.

“Don't wake up” he whispered, but Snape didn't hear him.

Eventually the storm of emotion has passed. Harry's head felt lighter and the deep chilling emptiness in his heart seemed to ease. He found himself lulled into sleep.

 

***

 

Harry awoke to Kreacher’s insistent whisper. The elf was tugging on his sleeve. Christ, he didn't even change his clothes yesterday. He looked at the man occupying the other side of the bed and suppressed a shiver. Snape and he slept in one bed. What would his friends think about that! His house elf was looking at him rather annoyed.

 _“_ Firecall wait in living room.”

Harry nodded. He flexed his ankle, but it appeared to be back to normal again. He got up from the bed and considered at least washing his face and teeth, but decided against it. The firecall might have been urgent. He went downstairs and was greeted with a sight of very worried McGonagall peeking out of the fireplace.

 _“_ Hullo, Mr. Potter.”

 _“_ Professor!” Harry cried, embarrassed by his appearance. “How can I help you?”

 _“_ Severus hasn't come to Hogwarts overnight. He has to take his medication, it's essential for his wellbeing.”

 _“_ Oh!” Harry crouched in front of a fireplace, his eyes level with McGonagall's face. “He's here, don't worry! I didn't wake him up yesterday after he fell asleep on a chair. I thought he could use the rest.”

Professor pursed her lips. “He could use the rest all right! Only he wouldn't, under any circumstances, let his body recover. Since he's been awake, he's been up and running, trying to interfere with the funerals and Hogwarts repairs. He's been a terrible, terrible bed host,” She sighed. “Mr. Potter, I'm sorry to burden you with his presence, but since we found out your group of friends has been gathering at Hogsmeade, Severus has been sure you've been plotting something and I agreed to let him go and investigate you.”

That definitely sounded like Snape to Harry. He smiled absentmindedly.

McGonagall continued. “He's been desperate to get out and see you. Frankly, I think he couldn't quite believe me, when I told him you were alive. Such a peculiar man. Take good care of him, please. We all owe him so much.”

 _“_ I will professor.”

 _“_ That reminds me. Take these potions. Severus knows how they are to be administered,” Harry took four bottles from the woman’s hands and bid farewell to her.

The rest of the morning was spent finally showering, sneaking a sandwich from the kitchen, asking Kreacher for a lunch and composing himself before Snape wakes up. He read a Muggle detective, sitting beside sleeping figure. Occasionally he would pull away from a book and look at the man, but the man appeared to be peacefully resting. He even managed to give Snape's hand a gentle squeeze, without him waking up.

The man had woken up closer to lunch.

One minute Harry was reading and the next he felt, like he's was being watched. He looked in direction of headboard and found a pair of dark eyes regarding him coolly. He tried his hardest not to get nervous.

 _“_ Good afternoon, sir.”

Snape eyebrows rose. “Potter. Why didn't you wake me earlier?”

 _“_ I've wanted you to get all the rest you need.” Snape scowled and Harry, finally finding his courage, approached the man. “Here,” he passed the man four vials. “Professor McGonagall told me you know how to take these.”

The man uncorked two vials and drank them. “These two are to be administered after meal.”

Harry perked up. “Wait here”

He felt a little strange carrying a tray with eggs, little sausages and orange juice to his room. When he appeared in the doorway, Snape was exiting the bathroom. He carried the tray to bed.

 _“_ What's the meaning of this?” Snape asked.

 _“_ Breakfast, although it’s closer to lunch,” Harry stated what should have been, in his opinion, obvious. Snape didn't answer.

 _“_ I see your ankle is faring well.”

 _“_ Thanks to you.”

Snape sat at the bed and nibbed at his breakfast. He didn't each much. Harry frowned. The man looked like a bag of bones. Tall, intimidating, but a bag of bones nonetheless. He sneaked a little sausage off Snape's place and watched as his eyes darted to Harry's mouth. The boy smiled guiltily. The man finished his meal and drank the rest of the potions. Even in the harsh morning light Harry could tell Snape looked better than yesterday. The bruises under his eyes seemed to lighten a little. That was a welcome change.

Harry took the tray and carried it back to kitchen. When he came back he found Snape in the living room, standing by the window, appearing deep in thought. Even though the man slept in his clothes, they didn't appear wrinkled. Suppose Snape had some kind of charm on the fabric. Harry ventured into room and stood behind the man, peaking over his shoulder.

 _“_ Found something interesting?”

 _“_ No, not at all. I simply find the observations of the nature to be fertile ground for a deep thought,” Snape cast him a brief look. “As I've said, you attract trouble, Potter.”

 _“_ It's not as if I go looking for it,” defended the boy.

 _“_ But you do. Go looking for a Basilisk in old school pipes, go looking for dangerous magical creatures in a forest, go after the philosopher stone when you eleven years old. It seems you can't imagine your life without the attractions a risky adventure provides. You charge into most perilous circumstances, you try to act the hero.” He turned and looked right into Harry's eyes. “You. Need. To. Be. _Watched_.”

 _“_ I'm not a kid anymore” Harry replied coolly. Sure, he'd gotten into trouble more than a fair share, but most of times he did it so save someone and help. He wasn't some adrenaline junky Snape was implying he was. “I can take care of myself.”

Snape smiled sardonically. “Your friends carry the weight of your little quests on their backs, do they not, Mr. Potter? And is it not their task to make sure you're uninjured?”

 _“_ Don't twist it.” Harry said annoyed. After some though he added curt, “Sir”.

“Ron and Hermione are not my sidekicks. We have an equal relationship.”

 _“_ If you insist,” Snape replied. But his eyes weren't unkind or mocking. If anything, it looked like the man was concerned. Harry sighed.

 _“_ Look, I know it might not be safe to go after the Death Eater’s Creature compound, but I've got help. It's not just my mission. All of DA, we're all in this together. I'm sure we're one step away from finding the place and then it's going to be the Ministry's concern.”

Snape stepped right in front of him then. “Excuse my examination of your thrill-seeking tendencies. They were not meant to insult you.” His tone was unreadable.

This close Harry could see the lines in the corners of Snape's eyes. It was odd to see them, the man sure didn't smile much. But Harry wasn't angry with Snape, the opposite was true. The man's intensity made him feel alive and brimming with emotions, even when he was being insulted. It might have made him angry in the past, but now it only made him aware of the man's deep and passionate nature. Many things changed between them because of the memories Snape has showed him. Snape wasn't just a controversial figure of Harry's childhood anymore, nor was he a villain. Now Harry saw him as painfully human, and once that revelation was made, it was impossible to go back.

His thoughts might have shown on his face, or maybe Snape was simply reading his mind, because he looked at him in surprise.

 _“_ You've changed,” he said nonplussed.

 _“_ I'm still the same Harry Potter I was, you know,” Harry replied embarrassed. “Maybe I've matured a bit, but then again – war does that to you.” It's you, Harry wanted to say, you who's changed me. Although it probably wouldn't be fair to all the trials and errors he's been through the past year, Harry still felt that way. Snape's memories opened up to him the truth of one life lived and it has left its mark on him.

 _“_ Still arrogant, selfish, self-important Griffindoor, I presume?”

 _“_ You pay the the best compliments,” Harry said airily and saw the corners of Snape's lips twitch. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by insistent knock on the front door. Harry excused himself and opened the door to smiling Ron and Hermione. He let them in and they went to the living room where Snape was waiting for Harry.

 _“_ Headmaster,” Hermione said surprised. “It's good to see you again.”

 _“_ Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley,” Snape inclined his head. He looked at Harry, “I've imposed on your hospitality enough Mr. Potter. This is my cue to leave. Good day to you.” He turned and promptly exited the room to Harry's disappointment.

 _“_ What was Snape doing here?” asked Ron, flopping down on a sofa.

Harry himself sat opposite of him. “He made sure I got home safe yesterday and he spent the night here.”

 _“_ No way, mate,” Ron said. “Why was he even back in the forest?”

Harry sighed. He explained Snape wanted to see if he got in trouble again, mentioning that Snape had “Harry Potter Saving Thing”. He also told them, that the rumor about the secret breeding ground for dangerous animals in the Forest of Dean appeared to be true. But they all knew that already. The Troll and Basilisk seemed to confirm what they all already knew. Something strange was brewing in the forest.

They went out with their search party after lunch that day, but found nothing. Afterwards they went to Mrs. Figg’s house to relax and have a good time. Harry fed the cats. The girls were all very diligent about feeding the little beasts and giving them fresh water. He was glad he wasn't the only one taking care of Mr. Chubbs, Mrs. Tails and Mr. Stubbins.

Dudley came around near the evening, bringing them snacks and coke. They ate crisps and chatted about Hogwarts life. Dudley sat at the corner of the room with Susan, while she asked him questions about his muggle life. It turned out Seamus's dog has died very recently and they all expressed their condolences.

Somehow it was very difficult for them to remember Colin, Fred and Lavender. Padma Patil mentioned Creevey first, when she told them there was no one to photograph them with the body of giant Snake. Colin's parents were muggles and they didn't invite any wizards to his funeral. His brother, Dennis, told Padma they were pretty disappointed with the wizarding world. Which was why Dennis wasn't joining them in any of their meetings. Harry had to swallow a lump in his throat at that. Maybe they weren't the only ones, he said. He was met with silence, only Ginny kept giving him funny looks.

Angelina said that George may join them soon in their quests. Everybody was excited to see the twin brother that survived. The DA seemed to think of Dudley as a good jolly guy and Harry didn't try to open their eyes to bully Dudley has been in the past. Susan appeared if not taken by him, but at least very interested in his life as a muggle. Dudley was blushing when he spoke to her and he would look at the casual display of magic from the DA members with an expression of awe. Levitating a can of coke or crisps seemed to amaze the boy.

The next day Harry was back at the forest, walking in the direction where they all had agreed to meet, but this time when he approached the crowd he noticed a person, that shouldn't be there. Snape. He was standing apart from the crowd, leaning onto the tree, a sneer plastered on his features.

 _“_ Merlin, I don't feel comfortable in his presence. I feel like every moment he will take fifty points from Gryffindor for me breathing too loudly,” whispered Angelina. Beside her stood George Weasley. He looked well, although there were pronounced lined around his mouth, that Harry never noticed before.

 _“_ In your case it's less to do with breathing and more to do with swearing,” said Seamus.

 _“_ Piss off, Finnigan,” she snapped.

 _“_ One hundred points from Gryffindor,” George said in mock-deep voice, imitating Snape.

Everybody laughed. Snape shot them a sour look.

 _“_ I'll take him” said Harry, when everybody calmed down.

 _“_ You don't have to Harry. We know you dislike each other fervently,” said Hannah.

 _“_ I think Headmaster and Harry would make a great team,” intervened Luna. She was wearing a silver dress, shimmering under the sun. It was quite hard not to notice her.

 _“_ Thank you Luna, I think so too,” Harry replied.

He walked to Snape and gave him a quiet smile. Snape didn't appear fazed. Harry shown him the way to the sector they were supposed to search and they apparated there alone, far from the crowd. Snape still looked exhausted, but Harry was getting used to it now. He didn't want to be a mother hen and pester Snape with questions about his health, although he was dying to know how his scars were healing.

 _“_ You're in a good mood today,” commented the man.

 _“_ Yeah, we had a good time yesterday at Mrs. Figg’s house,” Harry walked closer to Snape and shot the man another smile. Potions Master frowned.

 _“_ Arabella Figg? What were you doing in her house?”

 _“_ Oh, right. You don't know. Mrs. Figg’s away on the holiday and we're watching over her house and her cats.”

 _“_ Do you now? I fail to see how inviting a horde of barely adult wizards into one's household is supposed to keep it safe.”

 _“_ We're not going to ruin the place or anything. Sir. Mostly, we just sit around and talk. We were remembering the members of the DA, that didn't make it in the war. It was nice. I went to Lavender's funeral, entire Gryffindor was there, but it's the first time we actually talked about her.”

 _“_ Mr. Weasley used to date her, isn't that correct?” Snape remembered suddenly. They were walking in the forest and Harry wasn't paying attention to anything, but the sound of Snape's voice. The birds were singing overhead and the grass was as green as ever. Harry sensed he was treating their task more and more carelessly by the minute.

 _“_ Yes, they were, though I don't know how you'd know that,” Harry said surprised.

 _“_ They were in the periphery of my vision, when I...,” Snape stumbled over the words.

 _“_ When you were watching me?”

Snape sighed. Harry shot him a quick look. “I know you were always trying to make sure I wouldn't get into trouble.”

 _“_ Mr. Weasley must have been affected by his friend’s death,” changed the subject the taller man.

 _“_ Not more than any of us,” Harry said embarrassed for his friend. “They were an item for a short time. It was never anything serious,” reassured the boy.

 _“_ I see. Speaking of school romances. How is Ms. Weasley?”

Harry stumbled over root. His face turned crimson. “She's well, I suppose.” He was surprised Snape brought up the topic. “As well as she can be with the loss of her brother.”

They stopped because Snape turned to face him. His expression serious and his posture intense, he was looking at Harry, almost inspecting him, with that heavy gaze. The boy saw that Snape's expression had him feeling too warm and lightheaded. Harry tried not blush further. Whatever the man was searching and whether he found it, he didn't know. He only felt he enjoyed being under that penetrating gaze more than he was supposed to.

It is then the moment was broken by a sound of distant roar.

 _“_ Did you hear that?” But Snape already had wand in hand, ready and alert.

Harry finally noticed that the woods in this part of the forest looked somewhat familiar. And that clearing too. He could have sworn they camped in here. Snape followed him closely as they walked towards the distant noise. Even though the trees were green now and there was grass, where there used to be brown leaves, Harry recognized a pathway. He cast a searching gaze towards Snape and the man nodded at him apprehensively.

They were near the pond Harry had almost drowned in, in winter. Snape led him away from the main pathway, to the side. They approached the pond hidden behind a big boulder. There, sitting quietly without a care in the world was a spiked leopard, whose mane made him look like a lion. He was leisurely drinking from the pond.

They were sitting there, behind a rock, watching the creature when the thought suddenly occurred to Harry.

 _“_ Hey, why did you put the sword in the pond?” Was it Harry's imaginations or did Snape appear nervous at the question.

 _“_ Simply to make your life more difficult. I was already having a hard time with Gryffindors in school. At the time, it seemed like a divine justice to punish you for the troubles I've had with your peers.”

 _“_ You're joking,” Harry said loudly.

 _“_ No, I am not. And lower your voice.”

 _“_ You meant to tell me you just wanted to make me suffer, when I almost drowned in a frozen pond,” whispered Harry furiously. “In the middle of winter,” his voice rose.

The Nundu roared and Snape told him to shut his mouth. The beast appeared to be done lazing around the water and was stretching his paws. He could leave soon.

 _“_ We need to call in the others.”

 _“_ Oh, how kind of you to warn me this time, unlike the path you’ve chosen when we were met with that bloody snake,” Snape replied sarcastically. “No, we're not putting anyone else in danger now.”

 _“_ But...”

 _“_ Nundu's breath can obliterate villages, Potter. I know your course of Care of Magical Creatures was lacking severely, but make no mistake, if at least one of your companions apparates here without a face mask, you'll have another dead friend on your hands.”

 _“_ But what do we do? He's leaving!”

Snape flicked his wand in the animal's direction.

 _“_ We track it.”

They decided to keep their distance from the beast, but Harry insisted they traced its footsteps close enough to see where the big cat was going. He was still fuming about their earlier argument. He couldn't believe Snape was petty enough to make him dive for sword in the middle of winter. That man. They wandered through the forest after the Nundu and soon saw him disappear into the woods.

“He's gone. Are you still tracking him?”

“Yes,” came a reply.

They've passed through an invisible line in the woods. A line that went through Harry's whole body and left him tingling.

“Did you feel that?”

“I assume those were Muggle-Repelling Charm and additional wards must have placed to keep the place hidden. We're close.”

They ventured in and soon they were at a clearing with three wooden barns standing there in the middle of the forest. Harry and Snape exchanged glances. The buildings weren't even painted; they looked old, but couldn't have been built more than a year ago. All was quiet. Whatever was in those barns, it didn't make much noise.

Snape waved a wand, and Harry felt a familiar cool, wet sensations of Disillusionment Charm pass over his body. The man charmed them both a mask and nodded at the first house. They went in with their wands raised. The door had an open iron bolt on it; it didn't look like it could hold anything of significance inside. Snape slowly pulled the thing open.

“Reinforcement charms,” the man snorted quietly. “What a poor quality. Fragile construction relying almost purely on magic to stand. They must have been very low on funds for this place,” It was very strange to hear a sound coming from seemingly nowhere.

Inside, the barn was poorly lit. Harry lit a Lumos and watched a second light appear near him. The place smelled like Mrs. Figg’s house, but much, much worse. The floor was covered in hay and corridor lay in the center, with stalls on the side. There was a quiet mewling reaching their ears. They walked to the stall, where the noise was coming from. Through the torn gap on the door Harry saw a large Nundu lying in its side. He had little spiky balls scurrying all around him. Apparently this Nundu was a female. And she just had cubs.

Snape gestured for them to leave. They walked back to the door, still trying to be quiet. When they were outside Harry heard the man speak again.

“The male must have passed here, but we lost him. He's somewhere close then. We should be very careful. The creature would stop at nothing to protect his cubs.”

“Right. The second barn then?”

Unlike the first barn, the moment they walked into this barn Harry saw a movement. Multiple flying shrouds, appearing as ghosts were gathered in a barn. Harry reached for where he thought Snape might be and got a hold of his robe.

“The ghosts Ernie saw!”

“Come, let us not disturb them.”

When they were outside Snape told him these were not ghosts, but creatures called Lethifold.

“Only the Patronus charm is effective against them, they hunt at night, strangle their victims in their sleep and then digest them. If I remember correctly they only reside in tropical climates. Have you noticed that this barn is unusually humid and warm, even for this summer?”

“Hunts at night you say? There were several disappearances from Coleford. The residents disappeared right from their beds. It must have been the Lethi-thing hunting.”

“Well, if they were indeed the victims of Lethi-thing attack, they are dead now, you realise?” Snape mocked him.

Harry deflated. “Suppose we can't even tell the relatives about their loved ones being dead, can we?”

“No, I'm afraid that would raise suspicions.”

The third barn had no stalls. The space was covered in bones of smaller animals and the shed skin of large snake. This must have been the residence of the Basilisk. Harry wasn't sure what to do next, when they exited the barn. He wanted to call his friends and told Snape so. Snape advised him to send a Patronus with a warning about wearing a mask before he summoned them. He did as instructed and soon his friends were apparating to the shielded clearing.

Snape sent a Patronus to the Ministry and they were waiting for their arrival. They spelled both of the doors to the barns shut. Unfortunately, nothing could be done about the Nundu still on the loose. Harry was just saying hi to his friends, when a roar came out of nowhere. Wands raised, they prepared for an attack.

At that moment a huge leopard came out roaring right behind Harry. She jumped right at him and there was collective cry of Petrificus Totalus, but the Nundu's skin seemed to repel the spells that hit it. And they were too few that hit the mark. The attack came as a surprise. Harry was pinned by the weight of the beast, he could barely move and his wand was nowhere in sight. His right arm stung terribly. It was all he could do trying not to get pierced by the spikes.

The leopard opened his mouth wide and roared at the group. He seemed even angrier than before. That was when Neville's Stupefy hit him right in the mouth and the big cat tumbled backwards with the force of the spell. There was loud cheering from everywhere. Ron and Hermione were first by Harry's side. They helped him get up.

“Are you alright, Harry?” cried Hermione.

“You scared us mate,” that was Ron.

“Look, you're bleeding...” gasped the girl.

Sure enough there were three deep gashes on Harry's right arm. He winced. This was the third time he got hurt in the forest. First he fell and hit his head, then he hurt his ankle with Basilisk and now this. How utterly morbid. Why was he so unlucky? What would Snape think?

“My wand?”

“Accio, Harry's wand.” The wooden object jumped from the grass onto Hermione's hand and she held it out for Harry. Harry took it in his left hand.

“What is going on here? I've heard you right Ms. Granger? Mr. Potter is hurt?” came Snape’s concerned voice.

“I'm alright. Really. Thanks to Neville.” Harry raised his voice “Thanks, Nev!”

“You're welcome, Harry!”

“Wow, this is how you're always in the thick of the trouble, Potter,” Michael Corner came out of nowhere.

“Harry is hurt?” came the concerned voice of Ginny Weasley.

Harry groaned. Now everybody was paying attention to his wound.

Snape pale hand came out of nowhere and seized him by the shoulder. He dragged Harry a few feet away from the people gathered around him. His face was furious.

“I've told you to be careful about the male leopard!” the man hissed.

“I don't have eyes in the back of my head, you know,” complained Harry.

“You need to see a Healer. Immediately.”

Harry looked at him horrified. He wasn't some Draco Malfoy, pretending he got a fatal wound, when he just got scratched. “I'm _not_ going to a Healer!”

Thankfully, he was saved from Snape's rant by people in Ministry's robes stepping onto the clearing. Harry waved at them and they approached him and Potions Master. Snape threw him a filthy look, but explained that the barns contained a Nundu, his cubs and whole pack of Lethifolds. One currently stunned Nundu could be found lying there, outside the barn on the grass. Snape advised them to charm masks onto their faces, to protect them from Nundu's breath.

The Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures promised to take it from there and take care of the creatures they've found. But Harry had to have some doubts about their efficiency. There were so many muggle victims already! If only the Department took care of this entire story earlier, they could have been avoided.

 _“_ Harry. Let's go celebrate to Mrs. Figg’s!” yelled Lee Jordan.

 _“_ You're not in fit condition for any celebrations, Potter.”

 _“_ You know what, fine. If you want to help me get rid of those,” Harry waved his wounded arm, although it hurt him to do so. “then, by all means, you can go with me. But I am going to celebrate with my friends.”

 _“_ Ah, how kind of you to allow me, to accompany you, to your army's main residence. However I shall repay you for such favor,” Snape spat.

Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the man's hostility. He didn't want to go St. Mungo's for simple cuts and his friends were celebrating. He couldn't really say with clear conscience he'd rather be with his friends, than stay with Snape. No, his feelings for the man were too confusing for that. But if Snape was in the mood to make things difficult, he needed to follow Harry to the Privet drive.

Which he did, eventually. He stood a little away from DA members and Harry could tell they were uncomfortable with Snape around them, but he couldn't do anything about that. They arrived to Mrs. Figg’s just exactly in time for Dudley's arrival. Fred and Lee had apparated to the Hogsmead to bring them Butterbeer and wizarding snacks. They all wanted a real dinner and the girls went out with Dudley for groceries to cook them something. They have just tasked everyone with chopping and washing, when Snape tugged Harry upstairs.

They entered a small bedroom, with little pink flowers on the walls and flowery duvet on the bed. The man carefully undid the button on Harry's sleeve and rolled the torn fabric up to his elbow. Why did Harry choose this day to wear a shirt? It was ruined now.

Snape led him into a bathroom and washed the boy's wound under the tap. Harry watched as drops of red liquid disappeared down the drain. Snape took out his wand and cast a spell, that made Harry's skin sting.

He hissed in pain. “It stings.”

 _“_ It's disinfecting your wound.” He tugged the injured limb closer and blew gently on the wound. Harry shivered. No one had ever done something like this to his wounds before. Aunt Petunia always smeared him with alcohol and Madam Pomfrey was most gentle, but very clinical towards his injuries.

The cool air lifted the pain a little bit. Harry watched fascinated as Snape's lips puckered his expression serious. There was a thin line between his furrowed brows. They were close enough for Harry to smell the concoction his bandages were soaked in. A strand of the man's hair fell forward, obscuring Harry's view.

He felt an unexpected urge to brush the locks away. They were standing so close to each other. He wasn't usually the one hyper aware for his personal space, but something about Snape made him feel strange whenever the man was close. The kind of strange that curled your toes, the kind you didn't want to end.

 _“_ If I used a tonic, this would hurt less,” commented the man. “But you insisted on getting here, instead of having a proper Medi-Wizard attend to you.”

 _“_ I like it better, when it's you.”

Snape frowned. “I'm not a trained medical professional.” The stinging feeling ceased, but Harry didn't tell the older man about it. He wasn't sure why. Snape breath continued ghosting his skin. He felt in on his wound, but also in his lower tummy. Almost too low, Harry thought nervously.

 _“_ Finished?”

 _“_ Yeah, it doesn't hurt anymore,” the boy confirmed with some reluctance. He was foolish, trying to stretch this intimate moment.

Snape took his wand out again and licked his lips. His voice tilted to melodic timbre and he whispered a spell, that sounded like beautiful song. Even though the man's voice was quiet and raspy, it sounded very pleasing to Harry's ears. His wounds began to itch and heal. It took them couple of seconds to close completely, all while Snape chanted the words into the air between them. The man looked up when he was done.

 _“_ Why is it your army celebrates their victories here and not at Grimmauld's Place?”

 _“_ Umm… I still want that place to be a safe house for the Order. It grew you know. Lots of new members.”

 _“_ And can these men be trusted?” Snape asked. “You're inviting them into your home, Potter.”

 _“_ I trust Kingsley.”

Snape moved away from him. “I should be get going, so you're free for your friends.”

Harry was sad to hear the man was leaving.

“So soon?” he tugged the torn fabric down and marveled at the smooth skin.

 _“_ Goodbye Mr. Potter.”

As the boy watched him go, he felt peculiar, like there was an unfinished business left between two of them. He didn't know why that was, but he tried not to dwell on it. Snape was such an enigma to him. He claimed he didn't like Harry, but couldn't apparently bear to let him go, injured. He tried to save his life for Lily Potter, but was the one who delivered the news of his necessary death. He couldn't begin to guess what the man thought, what the men wanted.

Worse than that though, Harry was no longer sure what he wanted from the man himself.

The next day met him with an early meeting of the Order at Grimmauld's Place. Harry and Kreacher slaved away at the kitchen to prepare tea and biscuits for the crowd. They appeared to be closing in on location of remaining Death Eaters. It was suspected, they all were foolish enough to escape to one secure location, instead of fleeing to all of the continents. The new members of the Order congratulated him on finding the three old shacks in the forest. The news somehow got to the Aurors. Harry Potter found the secret location of Death Eaters Dangerous Creature Compound.

 _“_ It wasn't a compound. It was three barns,” he explained annoyed. “And one of them was empty because we've already dealt with the Basilisk that lived there.”

 _“_ You've battled a Basilisk?!” exclaimed Dedalus Dingle.

 _“_ No, not me. Dumbledore Army. There were a lot of us, my school friends. As I explained to you.”

Kingsley watched with an amused expression as some as some Order members expressed to Harry their utmost admiration. Their previous meeting wasn't nearly as warm. It seemed that Harry proved them something by going head first into trouble with the Forest of Dean. His previous reluctance to hunt the remaining Death Eaters seemed to hurt his reputation in their eyes. Now, he was once again the hero. He tried not to take the matters seriously, but truth to be told he'd much rather be spared of all the attention, be it negative or positive.

After the meeting was over, Harry had nothing better to do but laze around the house the rest of the day, finishing the detective novel he'd started when Snape was here. He tried very hard not to think about the man himself. The older man seemed to be recovering well from Nagini's bites. Although, still not very amiable, he was very different from the Snape Harry knew from school.

Never before they talked like equals. And, although, his Occlumency lessons forced them to spend time together, never before the man was so open with him. It was like an invisible wall has come down between them, and he was beginning to crave to know more and more about Snape.

His though were interrupted by an owl. The letter was from Hermione and she'd asked him to meet her at Mrs. Figg’s tomorrow morning. The letter was vague on details, but it seemed that the girl wanted to ask him to help with some after war mission. He'd be happy to help since he didn't really have anything to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized I've posted in the wrong window, losing all the formatted text. Oops!  
> Post a comment if you like the story! Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

_“_ Absolutely not!”

 _“_ But Harry, nobody else wants to take them.”

The three of them were sitting in the living room of Mrs Figg’s house. Apparently Harry needed to watch over three children for a month, while the Ms. Pearl’s Orphanage was building a new wing. The war had left casualties and with it, many orphans. It seemed that the building where the safe haven resided couldn't hold all the new children. That's why they were constructing a new wing. Thankfully, they were not short on galleons, but for the children recently orphaned by the war there was no place to stay during renovations. Some of DA members already agreed to take the kids for a short while; it was only a month after all. Fred, Angelina and Lee agreed to take two children, Luna and Neville would take one, Seamus and Dean would watch over one more. That left the Patil sisters, who've had a big family and would take three and Ernie and Hannah that would watch over two more. Michael Corner, Ginny, Cho, Susan and Terry Boot declined on the offer. In tandem with Ron and Hermione they were off to help with rebuilding of Hogwarts.

There were only three kids left and Hermione seemed to think nobody was better suited to take them than Harry. Three Masons, the children of Janus Mason, the right hand of the Carrows during their Hogwarts reign. Young, poor, but pureblood Slytherin, who cast Unforgivables on children, when the Carrows couldn't be bothered with the torture. Janus had a strong sadistic streak and made life of the many DA members very difficult. He would often choke the victim by spell, that would fill the victim’s lungs with water and watch as they coughed the water out. He and his wife were killed during the final battle. Their three children remained.

 _“_ Where would I even put them? The Grimmauld Place is too dangerous for the children, not to mention it’s still a place where the Order of Phoenix gathers,” Harry stood up and paced the room.

 _“_ Well,” Hermione looked around shyly. “We've though you could watch over them here.”

 _“_ Here? But I'd have to live here with them Hermione, there's not enough room.”

 _“_ We could transfigure the guest room's bed into two beds for the Abraxos and Talitha,” said Hermione, her hands playing nervously with the hem of her skirt. “And the main bedroom would be nursery for little Clara.”

 _“_ Why can't anybody else take them?”

 _“_ It's not as if I don't trust the DA members Harry, but... I've hears the stories about Janus Mason from Luna and Neville. He was a monster Harry, and I just don't want to tempt the children's luck with placing them with someone their father abused”

Harry felt cornered. He didn't want to say yes, but what other choice the children had? A muggle orphanage for a month? He didn't want a second Voldemort on their hands. It would be too much to ask from the children to adhere to Statue of Secrecy, anyway. He just didn't want to do it alone. He could stomach the task if Ron and Hermione helped him, but they were off to Hogwarts. What did he know about children’s care anyway? Nothing! He knew nothing.

 _“_ How old are they?”

 _“_ Abraxos is the eldest, he's five. Talitha is a year younger, she's four. And little Clara is six months old.”

 _“_ God, the purebloods and their names,” groaned Harry.

 _“_ I know what you mean,” snorted Ron.

While Hermione and Ron went after the children, Harry was to make the room accommodations suitable for the youths. He spent half an hour transforming the bed in the guest room in two; he kept getting the sizes all wrong. One bed was thin and frail, while the other turned out its opposite. He didn't want to change the house too much, afraid he wouldn't be able to get the it back to its original state. He took two chairs from the living room and dragged them upstairs into the main bedroom. There he transformed it into a little crib. The work was shoddy because his bed had uneven corners and looked appalling, like it made out of three different kinds of wood with the pieces mismatched to fit together. Harry wasn't good at transfiguration. But the baby could hardly tell the difference between a good bed and his work, he figured. As long as the surface was horizontal, it would be fine.

Ron and Hermione arrived shortly after he finished his preparations. He opened the door and looked at his new house guests. The boy had black hair and piercing blue eyes. Abraxos then. His little sister was a little shorter than him, although they both were awfully short, with blond curls and brown eyes. Harry released a tentative smile and said hello to them. Both kids brushed past him and entered the house without casting a second look at him. Great. Hermione followed them with baby basket in tow.

Harry peered curiously into the basket. A little baby was sleeping there. It looked perfectly average and it suddenly filled the boy with dread. He would be responsible for a little human being and would have to manage all their needs. Ron was through the door last, he was carrying two large bags. They've all sat gingerly onto the sofa and tense silence seemed to follow.

 _“_ Well, this is Harry. Harry Potter. He'll be looking after you for this month”

Hermione was looking at the children expectantly.

Talitha said nothing. The little boy simply shrugged. Harry anxiety seemed to rise like tidal wave and threatened to bury him over. Clearly, this was the worst idea imaginable. They've brought the bags into the guest room and let the children settle with their things. Harry needed to unpack those later. Harry and Ron, and Hermione went downstairs, where they wished him best of luck.

 _“_ We'll be here for you Harry,” Ron patted his friend on the back.

 _“_ Yes, you can call us anytime,” confirmed Hermione.

Five minutes later he was left alone with three children. He looked at Clara, sleeping peacefully in her basket. Maybe he could do this. Maybe it would be okay. The baby opened her eyes revealing them to be a beautiful blue shade. She was really lovely, Harry thought. Then she scrunched up her face.

Clara started crying.

The baby was crying for over an hour already, when Harry started to lose his mind. He tried everything. The milk bottle Hermione left in the baby's bag, checking her diapers, rocking her back and forth and trying to soothe her. He cooed and made funny faces, but she only started crying harder. Nothing worked. The two other children seemed to occupy themselves with running around the house, shooting spells at each other from the toy wands.

 _“_ It's not fair. Tell me where my Minnie is!” cried Talitha.

 _“_ She's somewhere dark where monsters will come and get her!” laughed Abraxos.

They chased each other, screaming and turning the furniture around. When Harry saw them next Talitha stopped abruptly and looked at him.

 _“_ I'm hungry!” she announced and rushed off.

Harry was trying desperately to cook with a crying baby in his arms. The crying brought a headache. He was seriously concerned if Clara would get a sore throat from the shrill noise she was making. He mixed the salt with the sugar and was forced to drain the potatoes he was cooking and add the water again. At some point the children rushed into the kitchen. Abraxos ran straight into Harry and he spilled the bowl of milk he was holding right onto his jeans and a shirt. It made a mess on the kitchen floor. He charmed the milk from the floor and almost missed the time for the fish chops to be out of the oven. The entire time he was carrying the baby in his arms.

The doorbell rang. Harry was at the end of his tether. He was about to start crying himself. He rushed to the door, baby in tow, hoping it would be Ron and Hermione. Surely they had a change of heart and had come to save him from this hell. Instead he opened the door to very sour looking Snape.

 _“_ I've must have been out longer than I remember,” remarked he in a much stronger voice than before. His wounds must be healing. The man looked pointedly at the baby in Harry's arms.

 _“_ Oh my God, you have to help me!” cried Harry. “She won't stop crying! And I've almost burned down the dinner and the children are running around the house, turning furniture upside down. And I'm wet, Snape, wet,” he gestured at the milk soaked clothes.

Snape stepped in the house. They've found themselves in the kitchen, where Harry struggled to piece together a decent meal. He tried to mash the potatoes with one hand, while holding the little Clara with the other. He practically felt the corners of his eyes burning. This was so humiliating. Why couldn't Snape see him in the circle of his friends, while he won Quidditch cup. Instead he saw him with crying infant in his arms, his jeans and shirt ruined, practically hysterical from the pressure of watching over three kids for two hours. He was making a mess of potatoes, and he was a mess, and...

 _“_ Enough,” the soft voice rumbled behind him and a hand came up to gently tug the crusher from his fingers. Snape flicked his wand and the tool busied itself by mashing the vegetables in the pan.

Snape's cool hands guided him to a chair. Harry sat, careful not to jostle the child. Snape's hands were on his shoulder's massaging him slightly.

 _“_ Calm down. How long have you been at this?”

 _“_ They've been dropped off here just couple of hours ago. I've checked her nappies, she's clean. She wouldn't eat either, I don't know what's wrong,” Harry was proud when his voice didn't wobble.

 _“_ Breathe, Harry,” said the man softly. His finger brushed the hairs on the nape of the boy's neck.

Harry sighed his pleasure. He took a deep gulp of air and released a shaky breath. Snape murmured encouraging words to him, while Harry tried to even out his breathing. Somehow Snape's hands ended up brushing his hair and fringe away. Harry's heart gave an unexpected tug of longing. He gave in to the caress and felt himself relax.

The child in his arms calmed down, as well. She looked around herself with a curious gaze. Harry couldn't believe his luck.

Clara has stopped crying.

His good spirits have returned. Another child stumbled onto the kitchen.

 _“_ Can I go outside?” Abraxos picked his nose and stared at them with those ice blue eyes.

 _“_ Sure. After we have lunch.”

 _“_ I'm not hungry.”

Harry sighed.

Snape helped him serve the table. Harry's mashed potatoes with fish chops were a hit with the kids. Harry felt himself relax even further. Even the little boy ate the entire plate, even though he claimed he was not hungry. Harry sat there and introduced Snape to the children. Unlike him, the man got a formal greeting and both of the children peered curiously at him. He let Abraxos out after lunch and settled on the sofa to feed Clara. Her chubby fingers clutched at his hands, as he fed her the formula. She was dressed in deep green nappies and smelled sweetly. Her weight in his arms terrified him initially, but now Harry found it comforting.

Snape has charmed all the dishes to clean themselves. Harry was surprised how adept the man was at household charms. He supposed that came with being a single bachelor for so many years. The thought made him blush. How did he even know if Snape was single for God's sake? Sure, the man was in love with his mum, but that didn't mean he hasn’t moved on since then.

Harry felt the little Clara get drowsy in his arms and went upstairs. He hummed a a tune to her, rocking the baby in his arms until she fell asleep. Then he settled her in her crib. When he turned, he found Snape standing in the doorway, a look of longing on his features. As soon as Harry turned Snape's face took a careful blank expression, but not before Harry saw it.

 _“_ Hi,” his voice barely above whisper he brushed his fringe out of his eyes and smiled sheepishly. He sat on the bed and stretched his legs in front of him.

 _“_ Quite a day, wouldn't you say?”

 _“_ It isn't over yet.” He patted the space next to him, compelling the man over. The man crossed the room in three long strides and sat next to him.

 _“_ What have you gotten yourself into?”

Harry explained it to him.

 _“_ Janus Mason's children,” the older man cast a long thoughtful look at the crib.

 _“_ Hermione thought leaving them with me was the best option.”

 _“_ Ms Granger, might have been right.”

 _“_ Don't think I don't appreciate your help, but why are you here?” Harry finally asked what he has been dying to know since he saw the man at his doorstep.

 _“_ After what I've seen you do with your free time, I was sure you'd get yourself into trouble again.”

 _“_ You've come to check up on me.”

 _“_ Yes, I suppose I have”

 _“_ Better go check on the rest of bunch,” Harry got up and he and Snape went downstairs, leaving the bedroom door open, so they could hear when the baby woke up.

He stepped outside and went looking for Abraxos. He found him in the back yard, crouched and looking at something. Harry came closer, the sun was shining brightly and all around them he could hear the birds singing. The child's face held concentrated expression, but a soft smirk was playing on his lips. In front of him lay a bird flapping its wings helplessly. There was distressed sound escaping from the animal’s beak.

 _“_ It must have hurt its wing and can't fly back up,” said Harry sadly.

Abraxos's face scrunched up as if in effort to do something. The bird now appeared to be frantic and crying out, as if in pain. Something was wrong here. The Boy Who Lived took a second look at the child and the poor animal. Finally the bird froze and there was a disappointed hiss from Abraxos's lips.

 _“_ You were using magic,” Harry couldn't help the accusation in his tone. He stood there looking at the boy, who's been tormenting the poor bird and a great sense of unease crept up his spine.

The boy shrugged. His gaze was already trained on the group of sparrows on a tree next to the fence. “Birds are no fun. They die too fast.”

Harry had no appropriate answer for that and beckoned the boy inside the house. He didn't know what to do and how to react. Should he discipline the boy? Would that make it worse? He didn't know much about children, except that he used to be one. A lifetime ago it seemed. He knew Dudley never tormented small animals, but maybe that was because giving trouble to Harry was more fun. Look at Dudley now, he seemed all right. But Abraxos has been intentionally hurting the bird. That kind of magic was… advanced. Given how Harry saw Dumbledore's earlier memories of Voldemort, he couldn't help but draw a comparison. Unbidden, the memories rose to his mind.

Janus Mason was a sadist. Could it be that Abraxos inherited his father’s vices? Or maybe the boy's cruelty was cultivated in him by his father?

Distraught he wondered into the house only to be horrified at the state of walls in the living room. Talitha was painting on Mrs. Figg's walls, like they were a paper. Harry stared horrified and opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Snape.

 _“_ I should be going,” the man pushed his hair out of his face and stepped in direction of the front door.

In a moment Harry was on him, his hand clutching desperately at the man's sleeve.

 _“_ No, don't!”

 _“_ Potter...”

 _“_ It's just that, it's all a little too much right now,” Harry said apologetically and released his grip on the man.

 _“_ You'll be living here, am I correct?” Snape put his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

 _“_ Yes, but where are you going with this?”

 _“_ And have you brought things you need to live here, Potter?” Harry unconsciously brushed his fingers against Snape's hand and the man drew back instantly. “Spare clothes, money, toothbrush?”

 _“_ I... no, I haven't,” Harry said stupidly. It all seemed so sudden. This morning only he didn't even know these kids existed.

 _“_ Then maybe it's time to concern yourself with these matters. I may be amendable to staying and watching over these brats. But not for long.”

 _“_ Severus,” he stumbled over a word, afraid he's crossed a line, but Snape only tilted his head, he's attention purely on Harry. “Something happened.” He toned his voice down and stepped closer still, practically whispering in the man's ear. “Abraxos is capable of advanced magic. I saw him torturing a bird without a wand.”

 _“_ I see,” the man's face was thoughtful.

 _“_ You'll look after them? I'll be quick”

 _“_ Go, Potter.”

By the time Harry was back an hour later, he has imagined a thousand ways things could go wrong in the house. When he arrived, however, all was well. The walls of the living room are clean, both children were sat watching a program on the muggle TV. Harry was momentarily stunned by his own foolishness. Of course even magical children wouldn't be opposed to watching few cartoons. Clara has slept all through Harry's trip. He changed his clothes and returned to Mrs. Figg’s with bags of different stuff. He even detoured for some diapers and groceries on the way there.

Him and Snape went to check on Clara and found her awake, crawling around her crib. Harry took her in his arms and settled her on the flowery bed. Snape watched him from the doorway. The younger man went about changing her nappies.

 _“_ Do I clean her with a spell or wipes?”

 _“_ Use the wipes,” the man finally stepped closer and banished the used diaper. He frowned “I think I saw advertising in the Prophet for self-cleaning nappies.”

 _“_ We should get them” Harry wiped the girl from bodily fluids and tried to put a fresh diaper on her. “Oh she's wiggling.”

 _“_ We? There's no we, where you and I concerned Potter. These children are _your_ responsibility, you realize.”

Harry didn't know why, but the words stung. He tried to ignore how his stomach dropped, continuing to dress the baby. He smiled when he was finished and charmed the used diaper away. He left Snape's retort without comment.

 _“_ Here we go, sweetheart. You're all clean now.”

If Snape noticed Harry ignored his last remark, he didn't show it. He was content to follow Harry downstairs and help him prepare dinner. They worked in companionable silence and when the chopping part was finished, the man exited the kitchen.

Harry found him with Abraxos, children's toys suspended in the air above them. The boy's face was engrossed in the task and it became apparent he was practicing levitation. His concentration wavered when he noticed Harry and the toys dropped to the ground.

 _“_ Keep practicing. When you'll be able to levitate these objects, migrate to lifting a heavier burden,” lectured Snape. “If you succeed, we'll branch out to more difficult spells.”

After the dinner, tired, he settled into the sofa with the baby in his arms when Talitha approached him. Her big brown eyes were sad, but her jaw was set in stubborn line. She was clinging to fat white cat, Mr Chubbs.

 _“_ You’ve made my parents die. We're here because you made them die, right?”

Harry was momentarily stunned into silence. “What?” he blurted out, when he recovered from shock. The girl appeared to be annoyed by this.

 _“_ You're Harry Potter, you made my parents die.”

 _“_ Talitha, no! I've only defeated Voldemort, I didn't kill your parents!”

 _“_ We're here with you…”

 _“_ That's only for a month. Then you'll go to Ms. Pearl’s Orphanage,” explained Harry.

 _“_ It's true then, mom and dad are not coming back,” Abraxos came into a room, his brows furrowed.

 _“_ I'm sorry,” said Harry and meant it. “Hogwarts had a battle and your parents were killed in it. There were many casualties from both sides.”

 _“_ My dad said you were a menace to the Wizarding World, that you made friends with mudbloods, muggles, creatures...”

 _“_ Do not use that word,” said Severus. He was watching their conversation from the corridor. He had his arms crossed in front of him, his face held a sneer.

 _“_ What, mudblood?” asked Abraxos confused.

 _“_ Mr Mason, have you perhaps got a hearing problem? What part of “Do not use that word” did you fail to comprehend?” The child pouted. He then opened his mouth and crossed his arms in front on of him, imitating Snape.

 _“_ Father said...”

 _“_ A great many things, I'm sure,” interrupted the older man. “You forget Mr. Mason, that I've known your father and I have a close idea of the nonsense he fed your ears,” Snape stepped fully into the room and advanced on the child.

 _“_ Don't speak badly about da,” cried Talitha. Her lover lip wobbled, she looked close to crying.

 _“_ Severus, please,” intervened Harry.

The man looked at him. Snape hesitated, before he straightened and acquiesced to Harry's silent plea. When the man left for the evening, Harry didn't try and stop him again. Their earlier conversation still rang in his ears. These kids truly were only his responsibility and if the man didn't want to share it, he wouldn't try and make him. The Potions Master probably had enough business to take care of.

Still, he couldn't help but feel almost entitled to man's free time. Was it because he was arrogant and self-centered, as Snape claimed, he didn't know. Maybe it was just the desire for support or maybe it was the need to see Snape over and over again, that were dictating his feelings. Snape might not be best with children, but did just fine today. The kids respected his natural authority and it really helped when he asked them to behave.

Harry went to bed in the unfamiliar room tense and somewhat miserable. He couldn't seem to relax even after he saw the kids to bed; it was as if he was waiting for some unknown trouble to occur. But he wasn't completely helpless against all misfortune. He still had his magic with him and he could send a Patronus to his friends any time he needed to.

The covers on his bed were too thick to sleep in this weather. The house had no air conditioning and was hot in summer, even at nighttime. He found a bed sheet to cover himself with and settled to sleep. He got up couple of times to check on Clara and to get a glass of water downstairs. Eventually he went into an uneasy sleep.

The morning had him busy with feeding the children and giving Clara a little bath. He tried to be as gentle as possible. He was careful not to get the water in her eyes and ears. But he needn't worry. He had help. Talitha knew what to do, and she helped him hold the baby up and sitting in the water, while he lathered Clara with soap.

 _“_ You do not still believe I am guilty of your parents death, Talitha, do you?”

 _“_ No,” she said like she though he was clearly daft. “But you were against them.”

 _“_ We've fought in the opposing sides, that's true. But I've never meant anyone harm,” he looked at her sadly. Their hands brushed while they were bathing the baby. The silence was not uncomfortable, but he could tell the girl has been thinking something. He was startled to notice her hair was a mess. The hair was curling even stronger in damp bathroom air. He knew he should probably brush it.

After they've finished, he settled her in the kitchen chair, comb in his hand. He was brushing her blonde curls, when she looked up, her eyes practically crossing. Clara was lying in her basket on the counter.

 _“_ You were against mom and da. Mmm… in the opposing sides. Why take us?”

 _“_ It's part of after war effort my friends and I are making. We want to help children orphaned in the war, while there are reconstructions at Ms. Pearl’s,” he finished the task and took Clara in his arms. She was beginning to show distress.

 _“_ I don't hold a grudge against you or your parents, Talitha,” he said earnestly.

It was unexpected then, when the bell rang. Harry got up with the baby in his arms and went to the door, almost tripping on one of the cats. He was greeted with a sight of none other than Snape himself, standing there under the bright morning sun. The man was intent to sneak his way into Harry's routines.

 _“_ Say good morning, Clara.”

The baby gurgled something. Snape smirked.

 _“_ Same to you, Ms. Mason.”

After settling Clara to nap, he found Snape in argument with Abraxos.

 _“_...even have elephants and monkeys in it,” the child said.

 _“_ As fascinating as that may be, I do not think it wise to stroll around with toddler in this heat,” was the response.

 _“_ What has monkeys?” Harry asked coming into the room.

 _“_ The Zoo!” Abraxos exclaimed. “Can we please go? Please, please, please! I wanna see a bear…”

Harry considered this. He didn't know if the boy's interests in animals extended to only torture, but a visit to the Zoo seemed innocent enough. He looked at Snape, who had a very peculiar expression on his face. He looked resigned. Harry smiled at him.

 _“_ You're going to side with the child, aren't you?”

 _“_...they might also have snakes, and toads,” continued the boy.

Well, Harry thought, I want them to like me. Snape, apparently, didn't have that problem, so it wasn't surprising he wasn't amenable to going to the Zoo. But Harry himself had only pleasant memories about going to the Zoo. Why not give the children the same experience?

He debated with himself. Severus was right and it was very hot outside. But he _was_ a wizard and he could use the cooling charms. But then again, what if muggles notice him using magic? Well, he could just be extra-careful, making sure that didn't happen.

In the end it took them less than half an hour to prepare.

They were watching the sun bear, when Harry turned to professor with a sour face.

“Animals, professor, animals again,” he rocked Clara in his arms gently.

“At least these are not magical animals, intent on trying to kill you, Potter,” Snape caught the meaning of his words. “You're not thrilled to be here, I take it?”

“Nope. I've had it enough with Snakes and Lions.”

Snape snorted. “But you're here, nonetheless.”

“It's just that they don't seem to like me at all, well, except Clara,” confessed Harry. Snape wasn't smiling, but his expression wasn't as forbidding as before.

“The same intellectual level perhaps.”

“Ha-bloody-ha.”

“Why did you take this task upon yourself?”

“I don't really fancy being idle right now. I wanted to help.” Harry put the little girl in the pram. The kids were busy teasing and trying to feed the animals. There were not many people around, perhaps due to unusual heat. He put his hands on railings, allowing his left wrist to brush Snape's hand. The man didn't move. Why was it so important to Harry that Snape didn't move away? He looked at the man, preparing to beach a difficult topic.

“What you've said about Janus Mason?”

“Ah, Yes. Mr. Mason,” Snape rubbed his temple, “He was in my house after all. Pureblood, but poor. His father gambled away their fortune until nothing was left. What he lacked in funds he made up in sadistic tendencies... As much as I look out for my Slytherins, I do not approve of malicious actions beyond everyday house rivalry,” the man paused, hesitating, “Over the years I've found that cruel children often have unresolved issues of their own, but whether that was the case with Mr. Mason or not, I couldn't tell. He was often found choking his victims, on occasion quite a bit younger than him, earning him detentions with Filch. He would not attack his own housemates.” Snape looked away, unable to meet Harry's eyes. “I've deterred him insufficiently from displaying such cruelty,” finished the man, self-loathing evident in his voice.

“It's not your fault.”

“Perhaps, but he was my responsibility.”

“And the mother?”

“Utterly besotted with the boy. Even poorer than him, I'm afraid. Quite an outlier for a pureblood Wizarding families, both of them. She was an ordinary girl, without any malicious tendencies. But she was blind to his faults, from what I've seen.”

They looked at various monkeys. Then lemurs. As much as Harry claimed he was sick of animals, he had to admit that lemurs looked cute. They ended up staying half an hour, watching penguins. Talitha simply wouldn't leave. She watched them with rapt attention and didn't laugh when they did something funny, like the other kids did. Talitha watched them plunge into water after their fish and gasped every time they would come out of the water. The girl even forgot her ice-cream, letting it melt between her fingers. A mess Harry was to take care off. He already made plans to buy her a penguin plushy.

Abraxos didn't seem to share his sister passion for penguins, or any other animal. He didn't, however, cringe at the spider walk-through, like the rest of their group did. Harry was no stranger to spiders, as he was raised with them as his companions in the cupboard under the stairs, but he still found the lushy green stands uncomfortable. There was no barrier for some enclosures and Harry found himself worrying for kids. Even though they were perfectly harmless. Which was silly, really. He imagined Ron walking along the walk-through and almost burst into a laugh.

Severus only showed his distress, when they walked into reptile house. The temperature was a lot cooler there. All around him Harry could hear whispering and complaining from the snakes. He was very amused to discover the older snakes were annoyed with the young. He looked at Severus and frowned. The man had gotten a little pale.

“You weren’t' uncomfortable with the Basilisk,” he touched the man's arm, attempting to comfort him. The man didn't flinch away from the contact.

“Those were singular circumstances. We were in danger of being made a meal to the creature. My actions had little to do with comfort and everything to do with being alarmed beyond measure.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't think.” Given how Snape was almost dead by the effort of Voldemort's snake, it wasn't surprising really, that he found himself unsettled by the reptiles. “Do you wish us to go?”

“It will be over soon enough.”

When it was, Severus wasn't the only one who was relieved.

As Harry planned he bought the penguin plushy for Talitha and offered Abraxos the same. But the boy refused. If he couldn't have the real thing, he'd rather not have the toy either. Harry tried push down his ominous thoughts on the subject. What would the boy do with the real animal? Somehow Harry doubted he would settle on simply playing with something feathery or fluffy.

They left the park and Harry was just walking on the pavement when he tripped and overstepped into the traffic area. Instantly the car horn sounded and he was yanked backward by the scruff of his neck. Perhaps, a millisecond before he was run down by a large truck.

“Is it too much to ask for you, to even attempt, _attempt_ Potter, to watch where your feet take you?!” Snape practically yelled at him in the middle of a street.

“Wow, that was close,” Harry steadied himself using the pram for support.

“Do you not care what happens to your life at all?” the man asked, suddenly tired.

“I'm not actively trying to kill myself” Harry said suddenly angry too. “I simply tripped.”

“Of course it's too much to ask of you to simply be careful with the life so many have sacrificed for” Snape said flatly.

Harry didn't know if he meant to be cruel or not.

“You know what, Snape? Piss off!”

Talitha gasped. Her brother giggled. Snape's lips gone thin and he turned, walking away brusquely. Harry was already regretting his outburst. He tried to follow the man's pace, resulting in him and kids practically running with the pram and sleeping Clara in tow.

The rest of the way was spent in tense silence. Harry tried to make eye contact with an older man, but every time he managed that, the man looked away quickly. Great, Harry thought, I'm always ruining things between us. What exactly was this tender truce that sprung in the place of open animosity, he couldn't tell. Why was it for him so important not to ruin it, he didn't know either. But Harry had carried the guilt of people dying in his name and he could really go without anyone reminding him about it. But Snape always knew what to say to hurt him the most, didn't he? Go after his parents, after his godfather, or his friends. Strange thing, when Harry thought about it, Snape didn't mention them at all. Which, perhaps, was an indication the man was trying to be civil.

And Harry lashed out unthinkingly. Bloody hell.

They've arrived at the house to the smell of delicious meal cooking. They were greeted with Hermione and Susan, who, apparently, were taking a day off from Hogwarts's rebuilding. Harry hugged Hermione and smiled at Susan. He was surprised to notice Dudley was there too. He noded shyly at Harry and shook his hand.

“We didn't expect you guys to be out,” said Susan. “Well, hello there,” she greeted Talitha and Abraxos “My name is Susan Bones, nice to meet you.”

The children seemed to be charmed by her. Snape made an attempt to leave, but he paused seeing how Harry's face fell. They've left two older children in the care of his friends and he went to second floor with Clara, who was beginning to fuss.

And Snape.

The man seemed to shut down completely, although Harry was grateful he hadn't left.

Harry went to change Clara's nappies. He was happy for the opportunity not to look at the man's face, while he talked to him.

“I'm sorry I lashed out at you,” he started. “It's just that I really don't try to hurt myself on purpose and every time it happens, you just get angry with me.”

“It would help, Mr. Potter, if you could simply look where you're going.”

“I'm happy you were there though. To save me,” he winced. “Yet again,” he wiped Clara's bottom clean and put the nappies onto her wiggling bum. He took the formula and put light heating charm on it.

When the baby was in his arms, he popped the bottle in her mouth. He noticed Snape was watching him intently. Harry tried not to squirm under that heavy gaze. But he wasn't really worried Snape was cataloguing his every action and finding him less than satisfactory. If he did, Harry was confident enough in himself not to worry.

Today he simply wanted to look into the man's eyes and see the thoughts that were behind them. Something was always left unsaid and unfinished between them. Harry wanted to know what. No, he _needed_ to know. To understand what he was feeling.

“Did you ever regret not having your own?” he asked.

“No, Mr. Potter, I did not,” came the dry reply.

“Here,” Harry said, offering the baby in his arms to Snape. “Take her.”

The man shrank back, as if threatened. “No, I don't...”

“Come on,” Harry took the man's hand and wrapped it around Clara. Snape watched him nervously, the lines around his mouth more pronounced.

Very gently, as if afraid the child would blow up in his face, Snape took the baby in his arms. Harry sent a quick payer for toddler to stay calm and he was rewarded with a very quiet baby, looking content in Snape's arms.

The man's eyes have gone wide. They shifted in panic between Harry and Clara, with his arms around the baby, holding her protectively. Harry's heart gone tender. He couldn't help the soft smile that sprang to his lips, couldn't help but to approach the pair and put his hand on Snape's shoulder.

The man relaxed visibly under his touch. He swayed from side to side, rocking the baby carefully.

“Is she alright?” he asked in a whisper. Harry shivered at the vulnerability in man's voice.

“She's perfect.”

“I don't really know how you do this,” said the man, his voice sad. “It's as if you're natural with small children. With being patient, careful and tender,” he looked at Harry, his expression unreadable. “I didn't expect you to be, but I can't say I'm surprised.”

“I don't really know what you're talking about. I couldn't do this if it weren't for you. Remember the state I was in, just yesterday, when you came around?” Harry stepped even closer to Snape, under the guise of entertaining the baby, breathing in the man's scent. He felt open and exposed, completely unguarded. Maybe they both felt that way, at this moment.

“Admit it, Potter, you'd make a great parent.” Snape frowned when one of Clara's pink little fists closed around a lock of black hair.

“I don't think I want to be, not yet.”

Snape's expression was one of doubt. He took the baby and passed it to the younger man. Harry took the baby without any objections. Snape was forced to bow, because his hair was still stuck between Clara's little fingers. This lead the man's face to be in dangerous proximity to Harry's own. For a second they shared the same breath, accompanied by the boy's heart hammering in his chest. His stomach gave a nervous lurch when their foreheads touched accidentally. All Harry could see was Snape big nose and his inky black eyelashes. He was struck by the need to act on the adrenalin rushing in his blood, but he made no attempt to move further or closer to the man. What he really wanted to do is borrow himself, to lose himself completely in the man's personal space. It was unthinkable. He felt a shiver go down his spine.

Finally, Snape untangled himself from Clara. Harry's body gave a nervous laugh. He felt giddy and excited. He also felt like an idiot for losing his presence of mind because of other man's proximity. He couldn't look into Snape's eyes for the fear that his tumultuous emotions would be open to read. Harry could not, should not forget the man was an accomplished Legilimens.

The next week flew by, until it was two days left before Talitha's birthday. Surprising even himself, Harry had started baking ahead of the celebrations. He baked two batches of cookies and one batch of cupcakes. The children started devouring them before the birthday. Truthfully, when he lived with Dursley's, cooking has always been nothing but a chore to him. Some of their training must have rubbed off, because he remembered baking before Dudley's birthday, and now he found himself doing the same because Talitha's birthday was coming around.

Severus spent the week by his side, helping him manage the children. The man looked better and better every morning he stepped through the front door. He still retained his sallow parlor, but the circles under his eyes were gone. He even looked like gained a stone or two.

In the evenings when the sun wasn't burning so hot, the children would go to the playground Harry used to play at. Leaving Snape and Harry to enjoy their tea in silence. Snape raised his brow, observing the latest round of Harry's cooking.

 _“_ I think, Potter, that would be quite enough.”

 

***

 

Today they were supposed to leave the children with Ron and Hermione and go Diagon Alley to buy a present for the girl. Snape volunteered to stay with children while Harry went off to buy the presents, but Harry insisted the man go with him. He liked to do things together with the man, however foolish it may be. Snape, in turn, appeared to be dead set to rather watch the children passively, than be an active participant in their life. However, when it came to teaching Abraxos how to channel his magic, he showed himself quite useful.

Harry inquired after the man's opinion about the boy's magical potential, which resulted in Snape revealing that he thought the boy might be the next great wizard of Dumbledore's caliber. Harry, however, swayed in the direction of Voldemort himself. He couldn't quite get the image of the tortured bird out of his mind.

It was the day before twenty eight of June and they were preparing to go to London, to Diagon Alley, when the older man stopped and took Harry's face into his hands. Harry looked at the man and frowned, his touch pleasant enough to distract him completely.

 _“_ What?”

 _“_ Stay still,” a slim dark wand was pointed right at his head, Snape's graceful fingers around the handle. He whispered an incantation.

 _“_ What are you doing?” Harry asked impatiently.

 _“_ There, that should do the trick,” said the man in satisfaction and released him.

Harry rushed to the mirror and found the ends of his hair blonde. But that wasn't the only change. His scar was hidden under what looked like an ugly birth mark and his round glasses had changed their shape into more square ones. Finding the change welcome, Harry shot Snape a grin.

 _“_ No one would look twice at me now.”

 _“_ If you rather hold an autograph session in the middle of the street...”

 _“_ No, dear God, no. Can you imagine?”

 _“_ Your admirers would be disappointed not to meet you,” the man said amused.

They apparated to the Leaky Cauldron and Harry had said a hi to Tom, but the man didn't appear to recognize him. It thrilled Harry to be anonymous. Just a part of a large crowd, that went through the Alley every day. He knew that eventually the hype would die down and he'd be able to go through the streets of Magical London in peace, but while the euphoria after defeat of the Dark Lord was still high, he was happy for a disguise.

Diagon Alley changed once more from a cold, unwelcoming place it was when Harry visited last to bustling, cheerful street. All around them the shop windows displayed their colorful products. The place was full of movement and witches and wizards. Harry marveled at how the Wizarding World was recovering from Voldemort's reign. Shame the same could not be said for the Ministry.

They've searched for magazine with toys for some time and when they found it, Harry picked the toy. He was pressed hard for the choice between two fairy dolls. One could sing and the other could hover and fly around you. Obviously, the doll that could sing was the safer choice for a muggle neighborhood. The charms that made the toy sing could be easily mistaken for some electronic device inside the delicate doll. Harry, however, swayed more towards the flying fairy.

 _“_ What do you think?”

 _“_ They look exactly the same,” said the older man. He was clearly bored.

 _“_ No, you see, the dresses are different. This one is blond and this one is redhead,” Harry pointed at the toys on the counter “The blond can sing and the redhead actually hovers above you. Can you believe that?”

 _“_ Hm...”

 _“_ I never had magical toys, when I was little,” added Harry wistfully.

 _“_ Simply pick one.”

The shop owner smiled at them generously. She was consulting Harry on toys.

 _“_ It's lovely to see couple like yours shopping for their young,” she put her hand on the younger man's arm. “I know we wizards can be a bit prejudiced, but I've never seen anything wrong with slightly untraditional arrangements.”

Harry looked at her blankly. Untraditional arrangements? What was the woman on about? He looked at Severus confused. The man eyes were shining dangerously. Her looked angry and put out. Had the woman insulted him? Harry blinked.

A couple? Suddenly it dawned on him, that the woman mistaken them for being _together_.

 _“_ Oh, no, we aren't..,” he started.

 _“_ Simply pick a toy and be done with it,” hissed the older man. He put his iron grip on Harry's wrist.

 _“_ The flying one,” came out a squeak.

 _“_ Lovely! That would be ten galleons.”

When they were exiting the shop, Harry was still battling with funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. The woman thought they were a couple, so what, Harry thought. She could have easily mistaken them for father and son. Harry cringed. Imagine Snape react to that! Besides, they looked nothing alike. Harry looked at Snape carefully. The man wasn't that old. Sure, he was twenty years older than him, but his hair didn’t even start to gray yet. Coming to a conclusion he won't find anything new in familiar features even if they made a fascinating picture, Harry went back to the shopping.

 _“_ Onto the next one, I suppose.”

 _“_ Excuse me?”

 _“_ Well, I've had Rosy write me a list of the things she wanted on her birthday,” explained Harry. “Let's see...”

 _“_ A list,” Snape was frowning.

 _“_ Yes, and we need to also buy a charmed baby broom, a baby wand for simple spells, a playhouse for the Synthia, a doll she has, and…” listed the younger man, counting on fingers.

 _“_ Enough!” Snape roared. Harry stopped, puzzled by the man's reactions. Severus was looking at him like he was a strange specimen of slug or a rare useless ingredient. The man turned to face him fully. Harry looked around them, afraid to make scene, lest someone recognize him.

 _“_ I assume you, a great Harry Potter...” Harry shushed him, looking around to see if anyone heard Snape.

The man continued his tirade, but lowered his voice. “You were raised like a king, any whim and desire catered to the instant it came along, indeed, being the pampered son of James Potter! But I assure no normal child needs for such an excess.”

 _“_ What? Raised like a king? I'm an orphan, Snape, remember?” Harry whispered furiously. He was completely scandalized. Trust Snape to take the facts and arrive to the most ridiculous conclusions, as always.

 _“_ Then how do you explain this?” Snape ripped the list from his hands. A few passers-by looked up from their tasks and gave them a glance. The man appeared to notice and tugged Harry out of the way, closer to the shop window.

 _“_ I...” Harry was distraught by the accusation. In past, it never appeared as if his chilhood experiences would interfere with his guardianship abilities, but maybe he was wrong.

 _“_ Well?” Snape tapped his leg impatiently.

 _“_ Aunt Petunia always gave Dudley a list,” Harry whispered in a small voice. “Every year Dudley would start composing a list after Christmas, with everything he wanted. Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon would go through the list and buy the presents for him. It was very important that they'd get everything right or else Dudley would be mad and... I just. I didn't even think one present would be enough I...”

 _“_ And you?”

 _“_ Me?” Harry asked confused.

 _“_ You had your list, I presume?” the man was watching at him intently.

 _“_ No.”

Snape just looked at him with that penetrating gaze. Harry sighed.

 _“_ They never bought me presents. I would usually just get Dudley's broken toys or something useful for me to use to clean the house,” he clarified. “Well, at least they remembered that I had a birthday at all. It was odd to live with that family. I never belonged. Dudley would always watch for my reaction, when they gifted me with household items, waiting to see me upset. I would have to look grateful so that uncle wouldn't get mad at me.”

Snape's lips went very thin and his nostrils flared. He was looking at Harry, but his gaze didn't betray any emotions. The younger man was relieved to see no pity in his eyes.

 _“_ And your baking?” asked the man, his voice unusually gentle.

 _“_ Well, aunt Petunia would always make Dudley's favorite cookies and the a cake... Sometimes...”

 _“_ Sometimes what?” Snape inquired.

 _“_ Sometimes, when she made two, there would be a little piece left for me as well,” Harry smiled wistfully at the memory. “That happened once actually. I think I was eight. It was before Dudley was placed on his diet,” It had been a chocolate cake and Harry though it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. It was a big piece, too, with sprinkles of chocolate on top. He was torn between savoring it and eating it all in one go. He ate it in minutes, afraid that Petunia might change her mind and give the piece of cake to Dudley. After, nothing, not even the picture of Dudley playing with the new toys would upset him.

Snape cocked an eyebrow at him.

 _“_ Nevermind,” Harry brushed his hair in a nervous gesture. “I guess one fairy doll is enough. What's left to purchase?”

 _“_ I'm under the impression a cake is needed for the occasion.” Snape replied. His voice was still lacking its usual scorn. He was watching the younger man thoughtfully. Once again Harry was overcome with an intense desire to know what the man was thinking. It was apparent Harry's revelations surprised him.

 _“_ A Cake? Right,” Harry shuffled with the toy bag. “I think I would like to make it still, but we need to buy the ingredients.” He suddenly remembered something. “And those self-cleaning nappies? We need to get those too!”

They found them at the store with everything for infants. It was painted half blue, half pink in pastel colors. The wind chime on the door was charmed to play a lullaby. Snape refused to go into it. Harry called it foolish and the man almost bit his head off. Harry shopped there alone and that might have been the reason why he emerged with baby clothes and a couple of toys on top of the nappies. Snape eyed him critically, but did not comment on it.

They ventured into the muggle London for the ingredients for the cake. Snape had to transfigure his clothes into something more muggle appropriate. He was now dressed in casual black trousers and shirt. Harry tried hard not to stare. The man was skinny and long limbed, but his wiry frame had a pleasant, well-proportioned form. Harry tried not to snicker. Well proportioned? What happened to thinking he was nothing more than a greasy git? When the things had changed?

The streets were busy with people in casual clothes walking on pavements heated by the weather. The charms on Harry's glasses and face wore off, but nobody recognized him. Harry found it incredibly refreshing.

 _“_ I can walk among muggles as myself and nobody bats an eye,” Harry placed the ingredients into trolley. He noticed that Snape was gazing at the shelves stocked with liquor with a mild interest.

 _“_ You expect me to believe you would rather be nameless nobody and not universally adored wizard?”

 _“_ Believe whatever you wish, but I would trade being a famous Harry Potter in instant to get a peace of mind,” the lady at the brightly lit store looked at him funnily. She quickly looked away when Snape scowled at her. “Did you know that Ron was once poisoned by a love potion intended for me?”

 _“_ Something that can happen to any mildly attractive man or woman after the Weasley's shop has launched,” dismissed the older man.

 _“_ You think I'm attractive?” Harry grinned.

 _“_ Bratб” Snape called affectionately. Harry's smile widened. “More than that, if it weren't for your fame you would have been expelled the first year.”

 _“_ It wasn't just me breaking the rules then. Ron and Hermione were with me. Besides, I was only trying to stop Quirrell.”

 _“_ Your Hogsmeade trips when you were explicitly forbidden to go, tell me, did they serve some world saving purpose?”

 _“_ Well, no,” Snape smirked triumphantly. “Hey! You have no proof I went there.”

 _“_ You've admitted it. I knew there were no ghosts by the Shrieking Shack. You were at Hogsmeade and you were breaking the rules,” Snape placed a bottle of whiskey in the trolley. “I'll pay for it.”

 _“_ I didn't go there because I was famous.”

 _“_ You couldn't just sit in the castle like any ordinary child.”

 _“_ What's your point?”

 _“_ You and rules, Potter. They don't go together. You think you're above them,” said Snape. His voice was no longer calm. Harry bristled at the accusation. They were in the middle of the checkout.

The rest of the way was spent with them arguing. Snape listed all of instances where Harry broke the rules and Harry tried to defend himself. Harry was fuming with anger many hours after they've parted. It was true, that he broke many rules during his Hogwarts years. Aside from Hogsmeade, however, he didn't think his actions were uncalled for. Not to mention breaking the rules during Umbridge's reign on school couldn't even count, because she ousted the only real authority ruling the school. Snape didn't see it that way. He just saw a boy who thought himself too important to bend to someone else's will.

Harry turned in his bed. He couldn't sleep. Fine, maybe he did have a rule breaking thing. And he definitely got away with breaking the rules one time too many. Because Dumbledore understood why he had to do what he did. Would he be that understanding if he wasn't famous Harry Potter, meant to defeat Voldemort? Harry liked to think he would be. After all he was always only trying to do the right thing. Harry ordered himself to stop dwelling. Eventually, he fell asleep.

 

***

 

Harry prepared the cake, as planned. Ron and Hermione were tasked with bringing enough food for the children and adults. For Talitha's birthday Harry invited the DA members with their assigned children. The house was sure to be crowded. The front and back garden were full of people making small talk and enjoying their time. Talitha seemed to be getting along with children well. Abraxos though, he stayed away from them and Harry saw him talk to Hermione and Ron.

Clara was the youngest of the children. She was surrounded by attention. Harry expected her to grizzle, but she appeared to be content to be passed from one girl to another. Harry looked at the clock. It was already two and Snape still hadn't come. He was usually there by the early morning.

How strange. Harry has tried his hardest to be a gracious host. The guests were playing exploding snap in the back garden. The weather was lovely. Although Mrs. Figg's garden was not as well groomed, and her lawn not as manicured as Dursley's the atmosphere was light and homely. Harry was scampering around the house making sure everyone had enough coke to drink. The children seemed to entertain themselves. They were running around the house playing games and yelling at each other.

It was a birthday party Harry always dreamed of when he was a child. Not the ceremonious tea parties the Dursleys threw Dudley. But a wild house full of life and fun. And he was having a good time. He looked at the clock again. It was four and it was time to eat the cake. Talitha blew on candles and she was officially five now, as Harry announced. Her cheeks were stained red from running, her blond curles in disarray. She looked happy.

Harry thought then he understood the parents who lived vicariously through their children. He certainly enjoyed giving the girl the party he never had as a child. Although the DA members were not his close friends, they were friends nonetheless. Even Dudley had come. And Harry was truly having a good time, he was. Susan had told him Dudley had officially invivted her to his house for some tea. Ron was hinting at him Ginny and Dean got unusually close this summer. Harry wasn't sure what was that about (maybe he should've felt jealous?), he was a little distracted. Even when all the cake was eaten (by children as it wasn't enough for adults) and everybody said their goodbyes Harry still held out some hope. But Snape didn't show up.

It was the next morning when the door ringed. His throat was hurting and his nose was runny. He felt like he'd had the beginning of fever too. Had he caught a cold? Sleepy and still tired from the previous evening Harry opened the door to find none other than Snape at his door. The man didn't look mauled by large sharped toothed animal. He didn't look sick either. Harry felt his temper flare.

 _“_ Oh, you,” he greeted the man inhospitably.

 _“_ You've expected someone else?”

 _“_ I didn't expect you at all,” cut him off Harry. “After all, it's so hard to tell when you decide to grace us with your presence and when you choose to stay away.” He ruffled his hair and made a cocky expression, spoiling for a fight.

 _“_ Excuse me?”

 _“_ Well don't go explaining yourself on my account; I'm sure I don't deserve to know.”

The muscle around Snape's eye twitched. His expression grew stony. “An odd way to let me know I'm unwelcome here, but I should not expect anything less from a Potter.”

 _“_ You're such a git, you know that?”

 _“_ Resorting to name calling, Mr Potter?” the man stepped forward, invading Harry's personal space and sneered at him, inches from his face. “Feeling bold, aren't we?” Harry could feel the man's hot breath grazing his cheeks, could see all of Snape's crooked teeth, stained yellow.

Harry's stomach jolted. His cock gave a needy twitch. Horrified Harry recoiled away from the older man. Snape interpreted him his own way. A rueful expression crossed his face.

 _“_ It must pain the pure and selfless Savior of the Wizarding World to be around the likes of me. Your patience for such low lives has run out, is that right, Potter?”

 _“_ No, I...”

 _“_ No longer feeling generous enough to mingle with an Ex Death Eater?”

 _“_ Snape, listen...”

The man turned to leave. Harry's stomach dropped. This was what he wanted, isn't it? Or was it?

 _“_ Where have you been yesterday?” he blurted quickly.

The man stopped and turned.

 _“_ Excuse me?”

 _“_ Talitha asked after you. I told you we were celebrating and everyone would come,” he let frustration seep into his voice.

 _“_ It might be a shock to you Potter, but I have other business in my life to attend to, other than you and your children.” the man crossed his arms in front of him, his expression aloof. “Especially, considering I wasn't even invited,” Harry opened his mouth to protest. “Excuse me, for being courteous enough to give you, your friends and your charges a space to celebrate.”

Harry was speechless for a moment. All the resentment drained out of him and he was left disappointed in both him and Snape. So what if the man didn't come? He wasn't obligated to be there. Harry remembered suddenly that Snape called the Masons his and his responsibility only. And yet, wasn't the man there for him the week before? It wasn't a crime for him to miss Talitha's birthday. Truthfully, although she asked after Severus, she wasn't the one upset over the fact, that the man didn't show. Harry was. But had he any right to be? He felt the beginnings of a headache coming. His palms felt clammy and his body felt heavy. He didn't feel well.

Harry ruffled his hair. He took his glasses off and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt. Put them back on again and looked at the older man. Snape looked as he always did. Greasy hair, black robes, wearing a nasty expression on his face. Only the bandages around his throat reminded Harry how close to death the man came.

 _“_ I thought you knew I wanted you there,” he murmured under his breath.

 _“_ Given the guest list I would surely only make your event more uncomfortable.”

Harry searched his feelings for any hint of anger, but there was only sadness. He was ashamed of his earlier outburst. His friends knew Snape as murderer of Dumbledore. They spent a year being tormented by the staff the man appointed in Hogwarts. They've known only terror and prejudice under Snape's reign as a Headmaster. Perhaps it wasn't such a bright idea for him to be present, while they celebrated.

 _“_ I'm sorry. It's just... I really wanted you there,” Harry looked into Snape's face, his voice sincere. “You've been such a help to me with the children and before, at the forest of Dean.” He doesn't say – I'm finding it really hard to imagine my life without you these days. He doesn't say – when I'm with you, it's the only time when I feel safe enough. He doesn't say – what I feel for you scares me to death. No, he doesn't say any of that. But Snape stays anyway.

By the end of day Harry was feverish with a cold. He's head feelt like it was made out of lead. He could barely walk after lunch, not to mention take care of three children. He lay down to rest before the dinner and he would not have got up even if Dark Lord himself rose from ashes. Snape charmed face masks for all the children to wear. Harry thought it was brilliant idea, after all, it wouldn't do to infect the kids too. The older man also went out of the house and came back with muggle antibiotics, with something to take down the fever and immune boosting remedies.

Harry whole body ached and his muscles felt sore. He heard Snape fuss with Clara and attempt to put her to sleep. He must have been successful because the crying soon stopped and Harry dropped into unconsciousness like a stone under the water.

 

***

 

It was unusual to dine with children without the boy. Who was currently cocooned in the nest of blankets upstairs. They behaved remarkably well, but that was probably because they were afraid of him, as most children were. Potter's condition was worrying him. The brat would be the only adult in the house when he'd leave. And he was sick beyond belief.

All day Severus watched him stumble over his feet, jumble the feeding time for Clara and attempt cooking when he could barely stand. The brilliant green of his gaze was glazed with fever. There were shadows under his eyes. Snape noticed them when the boy opened the door to him this morning. The boy was angry at him. It felt as their numerous confrontations before. Before the battle, before Snape found out he didn't lose him to Dumbledore's machinations. His eyes were full of resentment and Snape felt it prickle his skin unpleasantly.

They had been civil for only a month now. How soon one forgets the constant hatred that accompanied this lovely gaze. How desolate his face was when Snape fled the Hogwarts ground after... After what he had to do.

When he woke up in the hospital wing of Hogwarts he felt it keenly. The disappointment. He survived.

No matter the countless men that were bound to be after his head, no matter the venomous snake that ripped his throat apart.

He had been dead for months now. Not strictly physically, but in the ways it counted. An empty, hollowed out space where his heart used to occupy. The days dull and the ache of his existence stripped of its meaning driving him mad with agony. Every day spent away from the subject of his worries. Away in safety of the old castle, brimming with ancient wards and untoward violence. Away and aching, aching for a glimpse of the familiar figure, the bed of disheveled hair and ridiculous coke bottled glasses.

He had been dead since he knew the boy's true purpose. The sum of the game of one insignificant life full of vibrant colors and rebellion. A life bright and soft as a stray ray of sunshine to be ended by gloomy forces, by a cosmic law that demanded the balance to be restored, by the will of one and only person, who Snape considered his friend. His mentor.

What a cruel, impossible joke of fate, that he'd been tasked with delivering the sentence to the boy. To be the one to make sure he fulfilled the final task. He felt like Abraham, what he remembered of the stories his father believed in, sacrificing what's most dear for him. Hadn't he wished in the past that Potters shared his rotten luck? That they knew one day what was it like to be cursed by fate?

When he bled out on the floor in that dusty old shack he welcomed it. Even the antivenin in his bloodstream couldn't save him from blood loss. It was only fitting for his body to join his spirit. He was only a ghost in his life, pretending to be Voldemort's most trusted advisor. Yearning for the day he could finally retreat in wet welcoming soil. To be buried and forgotten.

Yet he found himself alive. Feeling like he had been thrown into the grinder, his body full of stinging nerve endings. Unable to swallow, to talk, to keep his head straight. He stared lifelessly at the ceiling of Hospital Wing, while Minerva explained to him, that the life force of the Headmaster could be restored by the connection to the castle.

He did not care of course. He'd rather be dead thousand times over. But the old tabby told him about the Dark Lord’s demise and try as he might, he wasn't prepared to find out the boy had survived. That Potter’s luck would be with the boy once again. That the strongest dark wizard cast an Avada Kedavra on his enemy and the enemy survived to tell the tale. He was shocked. He tried to ask questions, knocking the vials near the bed, “getting agitated” as Pomfrey put it. But his throat refused to work.

In the end he could only stare at McGonagall as she told her story. If Severus could laugh, he would. The Boy-Who-Lived-Once-Again. He went to sleep right after only to dream of sunrises and an open field full of flowers.

One night. One single night of respite. Perhaps more than he deserved.

He sat by Potter's bed, after settling the children to sleep. Talitha requested a story to sleep and he read them both a tale from one of the books. He checked that they brushed their teeth and washed their faces. Clara was content to be fed and lulled to sleep. She didn't require any special attention beyond that, but Severus still felt terrified every time he handled her.

He checked the boy's temperature. The fever wasn't receding. After he'd heard that Potter visited Hogsmead with his friends, the doubts the plagued him nearly tore him apart. He still didn't fully trust this new reality where Potter survived the Dark Lord. Every instinct told him it was impossible, that he wasn't a man whom the fate brought such gifts, or any gifts at all. And yet, Minerva spoke of the funerals the brat attended. But how could he escape the clutches of certain doom unscathed and relatively unharmed if McGonagall to be believed?

Every night he dreamt about the small figure extinguished in the sea of emerald green, like a drop of paint dissolved in water. He dreamt of his own name whispered sadly, dreamt of hand holding his own. Thankfully, his voice was back. His magic danced at his fingertips. He pressed Minerva for details of Potter's visit's to Hogsmead. And then he went, fingers working impatiently on the buttons of his robe, under Pomfrey's watchful gaze as she dressed his wounds.

 

He remembers seeing the boy, surrounded by his friends. His blood pressure suddenly low, seeing dark dots in his vision and almost fainting, like a complete fool. His heart hammering somewhere in his throat, he waited until the moment passed, hidden by a tree.

Thinking of that day, he didn't notice how he dosed off on Potter's bed. He dreamt of the small figure again and brilliant shining light of the Killing Curse surrounding it. Like a small light in darkness, the figure was extinguished by the violent green, until not a trace of the boy was left. Severus awoke with a gasp, his pulse racing in his veins.

It was a middle of the night, the room dark and only the sound of heavy breathing disturbing the silence of the house. The bedroom door was open. The baby was asleep. He turned to check on Potter. The boy's eyes were sunken on his face. He looked deathly pale, aside from two red spots on his cheeks betraying fever. He was also surrounded by all of three Mrs. Figg’s cats. One settled on his chest and one was sleeping in his lap. Severus frowned. The muggle medicine did not work.

He checked the boy's temperature. He stopped dead, dread filling him. Nearly forty degrees!

 _“_ Bloody hell,” he cast the spell again with the same results. “Dammit.”

The boy needed to be at St. Mungo. He wracked his brain, trying to figure out if he could leave the house with two children and infant without adult supervision. He couldn't. If something happened to the kids Potter would never forgive him. He cast a Patronus and sent it to Granger with explicit instructions to be here at once.

He settled to wait for her. Every minute passing seemed like the eternity. He put a cooling charm on Potter's entire body and was watching his pulse. Was his heartbeat weak, or Snape was imagining things? The boy moaned in his sleep. Severus touched the bed. The sheets were soaked in Potter's sweat. Maybe the cats felt something. He read about animals showing distress when their owner was sick.

He conjured a glass of water and tried to make the boy drink. The boy wasn't fully awake, yet he was lucid enough to gulp down the glass, his eyes fluttering. He moaned again. Severus' patience wore thin. He thought about leaving the kids to wait for Granger. What harm would it do? She would be here eventually, what could happen in a span of couple of hours?

Torn between choosing Potter's life and doing the right thing he was startled when he heard the doorbell ring. He rushed downstairs and yanked the door open. A haggard looking Hermione Granger stood in the doorway, her hair a complete mess. She was dressed in jeans and a muggle shirt. She blinked sleepily at him, her wand in right hand pointed at his chest.

 _“_ Professor? What happened?”

 _“_ Granger, you need to stay here with Masons,” he turned and sprinted in the direction of master bedroom with Granger close behind him

 _“_ What? Did you conjure me in the middle of the night to babysit the children?” they stepped into the bedroom. He banished the cats from the boy. They went with disgruntled meows. Severus bowed and got a hold of Potter under his knees and across his back. He lifted the boy into his arms. The girl gasped.

 _“_ Harry! What's wrong with him?”

 _“_ The Masons are your responsibility until Potter comes back, do you understand?”

 _“_ Where are you taking him?” the girl was suddenly very alert, a determined look on her features.

 _“_ St. Mungo.”

He appareated without another word, right from the bedroom. He landed on the front step of the hospital. Without a pause he rushed inside. Even at this hour the emergency ward was full of wizards. Severus pushed between a witch and a wizard, one with four arms and one with a scales instead of a skin, until he got hold of a nurse.

 _“_ I need a doctor this instant.”

 _“_ Sir, if you would wait for your turn, please. I will be with you shortly,” she disappeared in the crowd.

He tried to stop her, but Potter weighted heavily on his arms. Cold dread filled him. Potter needed help, God knows how many hours he was burning up with fever of this magnitude. Even magical organism could not be sustained long in this condition. He stepped further into the hospital and was stopped by another nurse. Good, this was exactly what he needed.

 _“_ Sorry, sir, you can't go there” a young, shy woman in her twenties blocked his way.

 _“_ You will contact a Healer immediately and you will bring him here, is that clear?” he towered over the girl and used his most authorities voice.

 _“_ The doctor will be here, if you wait just a little...”

 _“_ This is a matter of life and death,” cut her of the man. “Do you know who this is?”

 _“_ No, I..”

Severus all but thrust Potter's head in her face. She gasped when she noticed the scar. He watched as she ran down the corridor. A moment later she returned with a doctor. Snape released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Turned out that raging and mentioning Potter's name was a very efficient way in getting them a proper ward and a consilium of Healers. He watched as two of them crowded around Potter's bed with raised wands. The brat had appeared to have contacted a simple cold. And he was dying from it, apparently.

Severus wasn't wrong in his earlier assessment. The brat’s pulse was weak. The fever had been slowly exhausting his body and even his magic couldn't stop it. If the boy wasn't treated soon or if the treatment didn't work, he could die.

For half an hour he watched as the Healers administered the needed Potions and Charms on Potter. The doctors were baffled as none of them woked. They asked if the boy was cursed with anything. He wasn't, as far as Severus knew. But he wanted them to check anyway. Another half an hour was spent with them putting diagnostic charms on the small body.

Then the doctors left him and Potter alone. They put an IV treatment with a potion into Potter's vein. Every now and then a Doctor would pop in and renew the healing charms. Was this it? Was this all the hospital could do to help the Savior of the Wizarding World?

Severus sat at the boy's bedside. The young man appeared thin and fragile. His skin had a greyish tinge to it. The color appeared to be even worse, because of the white sheets around him. His eyes were closed, but he would shiver occasionally. His cheeks and lips were stained red because of the fever. He looked sick. He looked angelically impossibly beautiful.

Snape took the boy's hand in his.

 _“_ Fight, Potter. Fight, God damn you!”

He gripped harder afraid Potter was just an ephemeral ghost on this plane, never meant to linger among mortals for long. Severus bent over the young man, until his mouth was to the boy's ear and whispered words of encouragement. The place in his chest, where his heart ought to be, felt tight.

He was confused by the turn of the evens. And highly skeptical. Something was wrong here. The healers didn't find any curse signatures on Potter, but that didn't mean there weren't any. Perhaps a rare, seldom used, _dark_ magic was at work here. How many dark curses he knew? Certainly more than a dozen, hundreds if he was keeping count.

There were curses that acted quickly, curses that took a decade to manifest. Curses of fatal nature, curses meant to change someone character, befuddling their mind and senses, curses of bad luck. There was also a curse the Dark Lord put on position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. What's for him to put a curse on the wizard who would slay him? A curse that's meant to act even beyond caster's grave?

First the Potter brat fell and hit his head on the rock, when Severus found him. A simple case of bad luck would be at play here. Then he was assaulted by a Basilisk. Could the two events happen on their own accord? Possibly. Then the brat found the Nundu. Out of everyone who was trying to find the animals – they popped up right where Potter was, didn't they? What they represented? A danger, that's what. And he was attacked later by that same beast.

He still remembered that terrifying moment when the beast appeared in place where Potter stood. How close he had come to being seriously injured. One breath of the animal would certainly be enough to send him to the forefathers. He could imagine Albus's face at the Potter's arrival at the Heavenly gate. Would the Headmaster be surprised? Or heartbroken? As heartbroken as he himself would be?

And no matter what the brat said, that truck had almost killed him the other day. A coincidence? Dying from a simple cold was not, however. It was as if the events conspired to put the brat in danger. To kill him even. Perhaps he was paranoid. Unable to cope with the pressure of losing the one thing he... of losing Potter.

Or maybe someone cursed the boy. He knew the nature of devious dark spells. They could be waiting patiently for years, for one single opportunity to act, to manifest. To lay dormant coursing through victim's bloodstream, seeping into their magic, waiting for one convenient moment. Indeed, if Potter were cursed, the curse appeared to be simply nudging already dangerous situations not in his favor.

He spent the night in dark contemplations. The Healers were in and out of Potter's room. Snape held the boy's hand and felt Harry's magic clinging desperately to him for comfort. He allowed his magic to dance over the young man's skin. His tainted, dark magical force was enough to spoil a fresh fruit. But if Potter minded he couldn't tell and his magic certainly acted like it craved the presence.

He woke when the sun's first rays already penetrated the curtains, illuminating the pale blue walls. The room appeared bigger than when it was covered in shadows. His head was buried on Potter's lap. Potter's one hand was around his wrist, his other hand buried in Snape's greasy hair. First thing he did was cast a diagnostic charm.

The boy's fever has receded.

Air rushed into his lungs and he felt the tight ring around his chest ease. In a shameful moment of tenderness, he bent and covered the boy's forehead in chaste kiss. Harry's eyelashes fluttered beneath his jaw and small sound escaped his mouth.

 

***

 

He awoke to being kissed. Nobody before kissed him on the forehead. His body ached and his throat felt parched. During the night he came to consciousness a couple of times, to the sound of chanting spells or the quiet raspy voice of his professor urging him to hold on. Always he felt a strong presence beside him, a steady hand holding his.

He dreamt of King's Cross station, of figure standing there waiting for him in a fog. At first he thought it was Dumbledore and he called for the wizard, but the presence the figure radiated differed from Dumbledore's like night from day. Where Harry remembered his mentor's magic being warm, free and welcoming, whoever waited him at the other side was cold beyond all measure, close and distant at the same time and felt ancient, as old as time.

During the night the place flickered under Harry's eyelids and always he found himself met with the same creature. It did not speak or call to him, but he had a distinct impression that the figure was there only for him. It appeared to watch him come and go, waiting for him to stay. Even in a dream he was sure once the creature had him to himself, something terrible and irreversible was to happen.

His tried to open his eyes and moaned when the morning light hurt his eyes. He was greeted with a sight of grumpy looking Snape, who was still holding his hand. The kiss – Snape must have kissed him. He flushed from pleasure the gesture brought him. He was unused to such displays of tenderness from the man.

 _“_ Ah, you're awake” a familiar voice greeted him. Snape's voice was deep from sleep and the circles under his eyes, which were beginning to disappear, were deeper than before. His eyes were alert and awake, as if he hadn't just came about from slumber.

 _“_ Wa-h..ter,” Harry rasped.

The man waved his wand, then cool fingers grasped him under the neck and a glass was pressed before his lips. He drank greedily, the water feeling like pure heaven. When he could drink no more he looked around the room he found himself in. The room had a large window with pale blue curtains to match the walls. He was covered with a large soft blanket. Wait a minute. This wasn't the master bedroom. In fact, he didn't recognize the room at all.

 _“_ We're not at Mrs. Figg's house.”

Snape rolled his eyes at him.

 _“_ Your propensity for stating the obvious still stands, I see.”

 _“_ Where...?”

 _“_ St. Mungo Mis-ter Potter,” Snape was now sitting rigidly in his chair, his back straight, his legs crossed. Harry looked at the man's knees. He never noticed how bony they were before. Not like he didn't have bony knees himself.

 _“_ Wait, where's Clara?” Harry jerked forward, trying to sit up. Immediately, Snape's hands gripped his shoulders and pushed him back onto the bed. “The kids, where are they?”

 _“_ Calm down, the Masons are under the watchful gaze of Ms. Granger,” the man explained. His right hand left his shoulder to lay right over Harry's heart. He pushed it down lightly and sneered in his direction. “Am I to put you down every time you get excited for something, Potter? The Masons are completely fine, calm yourself. You couldn't have transferred the cold onto them and if you did, Ms. Granger will no doubt take care of it. What you had was nothing serious to warrant a contagion.”

 _“_ It appears you’ve had an individual reaction to the strain of the virus. Your fever would not be reduced by the simple muggle antibiotics or even wizard remedies. You were out for a night, indeed, the Healers were worried the condition might be life threatening if your temperature wouldn't drop...” The rest of the sense was drowned in a haze, as Harry felt his eyelids drop and his attention slip away. He fell asleep once more.

When he came to consciousness the next time there were couple of voices in the room. He opened his eyes and was greeted with a sight of his best friend arguing with Snape about something.

 _“_ Ron.”

 _“_ Harry! You're awake,” his mate took a chair before the bed and sat down on it. “Hermione got me so worried, I thought you were dying here. Professor here, he didn't tell her what had happened to you.”

 _“_ I'm sorry you were worried. How are you doing with kids?”

 _“_ S'alright mate. The boy is a bit of a creepy one, don't you think?” Ron looked well, his face was more tan than when Harry saw him before. “The girls are alright, although Hermione is having trouble with the younger one. Professor McGonagall released us from our duties to take care of them, but you'll take over soon anyway, won't you?”

Snape crossed his arms in front of him. “As I've discussed with you Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter is in no condition to leave the hospital. It is far too early for him return to watching after Masons.”

 _“_ But you're fine, Harry, aren't you? Just a simple cold, the Healer said. That reminds me,” the redhead turned to face Snape. “Professor, professor McGonagall wished to see you. You didn't come back to the dungeons for a night – she was concerned.”

 _“_ Very well.”

Harry looked at the man. Snape took care of him when he was ill, he was always looking out for Harry. How could he ever repay him? The least he could do is make sure the man got the rest he needed. Something aching went soft in him when he thought about Snape's kiss.

 _“_ Go. Please. Ron will take care of me from there.”

Snape opened his mouth to say something, but then a stout man in a lime green medi-wizard robes walked in. Ron immediately asked him when Harry might be discharged. Snape insisted he should be given at least one day before he was released. The Healer agreed with an older wizard, even when both Harry and Ron argued he was fine and ready to go now. Snape only glared at them. In the end he exited the room silently, with only a nod of acknowledgement.

When Harry was discharged the next day it was a cloudy morning with high wind. Ron brought him spare clothes and a jacket, so he wouldn't have to walk out of St. Mungo in his pajamas. The hospital’s staff treated him lovely, the nurses amiable and attentive to his wishes. Part of it was probably to do with the fact he was the great Harry Potter. Couple of times he noticed the witches and wizards staring at his scar. He even got the Daily Prophet delivered to his room, when he didn't even ask for it.

He was happy to leave, however. The Healers told him he was in critical condition when he arrived. If Snape hadn't reacted so soon, he might have wasted away from the fever. The man saved his life again. He didn't know how he could begin to repay his debt to the man. Who could keep count on who saved whom at this point?

What he really wanted is to ask Severus why he'd kissed him. Even with all that happened it seemed to bother him the most. That a man like Snape would display such casual affection towards him. The kiss wasn't what you did out of duty, after all. Harry's confused foolish heart beat faster, when he thought about the things the kiss could mean.

He stepped over doorstep and was greeted with wail. Talitha and Abraxos both gave him a hug and Hermione emerged from upstairs with a baby in her arms. She didn't look too pleased. He was surprised when the children were happy to see him. Maybe he didn't do such a bad job looking after them.

 _“_ Harry! Oh, I'm so happy to see you,” Hermione did indeed look happy enough to burst into tears, when she noticed him. “She won't stop crying!” the girl rocked the baby in her arms. Her hair looked even more unkempt than usual.

 _“_ Hello baby girl,” cooed Harry.

Hermione promptly deposited the infant from the nest in her arms into Harry's hands. Harry smiled at the wailing baby. She weighted heavy in his arms and her red face was scrunched up in displeasure. He placed a kiss on top of her head and swayed her gently from side to side, speaking softly to her.

 _“_ Have aunt Hermione scared you with her bushy hair, Clara? Did she try to make you study? Did you tell her you’re too young to study, huh, baby girl?”

 _“_ Very funny, Harry” shot Hermione. Now that the baby was off her care her tense posture relaxed somewhat.

The infant stopped crying, however. Her expression cleared and she looked around herself curiously, with her big blue eyes.

 _“_ I can't believe it. She's not crying anymore!” exclaimed Hermione.

 _“_ We're really pants with children,” said Ron. He was coming down the stairs, smiling generously.

 _“_ I couldn't get her to stop crying, when I first held her, Hermione. You're not the only one who has had trouble with this little lady.”

 _“_ Still, I would pick moving rocks over this any day,” inserted Ron.

They've moved into the living room and sat on the sofa. Now that Harry looked closer he could see the tan on Hermione's face too. They must have been working on fresh air. He knew then he missed his friends. This past year they've been inseparable and now when they've had some time apart he gained a new appreciation for his friends.

 _“_ How are you feeling, Harry?” asked his friend. “God, I was so worried. Professor sent me a Patronus in the middle of the night and I rushed in here expecting at least a full out war breaking out. But he just left me to watch the children and apparated without a word. I'm thankfull he at least said where he was taking you...”

 _“_ Could have at least told us you were sick, the bastard,” interrupted Ron.

 _“_ Ron! Well, we've figured that part ourselves. I've contacted Ron to help me out with children. Honestly, I don't know how you do it, Harry. Take care of all three of them! I'm sorry we placed such burden on you, we didn't think it would be that hard...”

 _“_ Really mate, we'll stay and help over now that we know what you're dealing with,” said Ron.

 _“_ I couldn't even get a full minute of rest, because someone,” she scratched Clara's leg affectionately, “won't stop crying. I didn't have the time to prepare the meals and it has only been one day. I can't figure out how you had watched over all three of them alone! Really Harry, you should have told us you were struggling!”

 _“_ I didn't do it alone,” mumbled Harry.

 _“_ What, I can't hear you?” asked Ron.

 _“_ I said, I didn't do it alone. I've had help. Snape has been there for me when it got tough.”

 _“_ What, really, the greasy git?” Ron's eyes had gone huge.

 _“_ That explains what he was doing here, when you got sick. Strange we didn't see him at Talitha's birthday party.”

 _“_ Yeah, he sorta didn't think the DA would appreciate him there,” added Harry sheepishly.

 _“_ Glad he's self-aware,” cackled Ron.

 _“_ Ron, I don't even know why I bother with you sometimes!”

 _“_ I really wanted him there, though,” Harry wiggled a finger in front of Clara's nose and she smiled. “But enough about me and Snape, how have you guys been at Hogwarts?”

 _“_ Oh, Harry! There are so many students helping out with rebuilding the castle! We're working under direction of French builders,” started Hermione. “It's rumored they took Unbreakable Vow not to share any secrets of the castle. We work night and day to be ready for September, when the school year begins. Sometimes it is hard to tell what out builders want...”

 _“_ Huh, how come?” asked Harry.

 _“_ It's the accents. Imagine Fleur, but ten time worse,” replied Ron.

 _“_ And on top of everything they want to build more windows, support walls with flying buttresses, have arches everywhere. They constantly try to make Hogwarts look more gothic. It's an ongoing struggle, because McGonagall wants to repair everything as it was before,” the respect Hermione felt for the Headmistress showed clearly in her tone. “I personally support her attitude, we all want the Hogwarts we knew and loved back.”

 _“_ But not everything can be fixed, you know. Professor McGonagall says they have yet to figure out the magic that went behind Room of Requirement, for example,” added Ron with some sadness. “It's an archaic and very complicated spell work, Mr. Weasley,” he mocked. “I certainly wouldn't get my hopes up that it would be restored.”

 _“_ Not to mention Hogwarts needs more house-elves, because so many have perished in the battle. Honestly, they should be treated as heroes. I've spoken about it with McGonagall and she agreed they could have an honorary monument with the names of the fallen elves on the grounds,” she looked at Ron. “What? Are you not going to mock me?”

 _“_ Not this time Hermione,” smiled Ron. “The house-elves gave their life for the castle, for the students. They stood against You-Know-Who and sacrificed their lives for it. The least we could do is build a monument.” he said fiercely.

 _“_ Oh, Ron...” Hemione turned to Harry. “They're building a monument for all who perished in the battle, too,” she explained.

Harry patted his friend on the shoulder. He wanted to comfort Ron, but he didn't have the right words for it.

 _“_ We all miss him Ron,” he admitted. It was true. They have felt the absence of the sneaky duo keenly among the DA. Fred and George made their gatherings fun and were always there to alleviate the mood, not to mention they excelled in charms.

 _“_ George took it the hardest,” whispered the redhead. It occurred to Harry this was the first time they have spoken about it amongst the three of them. “But he volunteered to watch over one of the kids from the Orphanage. I figure it's a good thing. Will keep him distracted, you know.”

 _“_ Yes,” said Harry, because he had nothing else to say.

They were quiet for a moment.

 _“_ Well, Harry,” started Ron. “You will say when you'll need our help with those three, wouldn't you? I feel guilty for burdening you with them.”

Harry winced internally. It was true, taking care of all three kids _has_ proved to be difficult. But with Snape's help he almost got the hang of it. It took him awhile and his first encounter with them started with an overwhelming sense of panic, but now he felt that he really could do it on his own.

 _“_ I'm going to do fine on my own.”

Hermione raised her brows in surprise. Ron snickered.

 _“_ No, really! I'm not going to lie to you, it was difficult at first. And they behave better with me, now, that they got to know me. But um, yeah, I think I can do it. There are only a couple of weeks left.”

 _“_ If you're sure,” shrugged Ron.

 _“_ I am, yes,” confirmed Harry. Clara in his arms was getting rather sleepy. “You can leave me with them. I'll be fine.”

When his friends finally left, Harry decided that some grocery shopping was in order. He didn't feel at all weak or drowsy. They went to the nearest store with Clara sleeping in the pram. He browsed the shelves with renewed interest. Talitha and Abraxos were not familiar with muggle sweets. He saw them pick couple of chocolate bars hesitantly and bring them to Harry. However, what he really wanted was to buy some berries. It was a hot summer and he wanted to eat something light. There were all kinds of dried fruit and jam at Hogwarts, but the resources of the hothouses were not enough to have a fresh fruit around. And Dursley's never fed Harry berries and he had suddenly found himself craving strawberries.

He wondered if Snape liked fruit. He certainly didn't look like the man who enjoyed fresh fruit. More like someone who loved fish, eels or something equally disgusting. Or maybe unsalted, unbuttered porridge. Harry smiled to himself. He tried to steer his thoughts away from the kiss the man placed on his forehead, but found that he couldn't. It made him feel silly. After all he shared much less innocent kisses with Cho and Ginny, and he never found himself mooning over them.

He was just curious, he told himself. Yes, that's right. He was interested what Snape thought about him. How the man felt. His regard was obviously warm enough to warrant such affections as a kiss. They were friends... sort of? Of course Ron would never kiss him like that, but Hermione might.

Harry couldn't find the reason why thinking about Snape's feelings toward him made him flustered. Not so long ago he was convinced the man felt a great deal of loathing, disdain and outright hatred towards him. Harry's own feelings toward Snape were all over the place. He felt confused and even frightened by the intense need for the man to like him, when only a couple of months ago he couldn't care less what the older man thought of him. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts he stared blankly at cashier, when she told him the bill.

After lunch Harry took the kids to an already familiar playground. But even reminiscing about the times when he played there himself, didn't distract him from thoughts about Snape. He felt safe around the man, his magic. He felt Snape's magic caress his skin, enclosing him in protective blanket, when he lay in the hospital. Dark and forbidding, it felt like going in shade on a summer day, like feeling thirsty and finally drinking cool water. It took the edge off his own magic.

And then, of course, there was his own uncomfortable reaction to the man, when Harry was angry with him for not coming to Talitha's birthday. But it was only a moment, he reasoned with himself. It didn't have to mean anything. Even if at that moment his desire for the man didn't at all resemble platonic feelings friends would share.

It was just a spur of the moment, he repeated. It didn't mean anything.

Even if Harry found their more intimate moments almost intoxicating. Even if he longed for an odd occasion when he was allowed to touch and be close to the man.

He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. Snape was in love with his mother, for fuck's sake! What was wrong with him?

When he opened them he was determined not to think about the man anymore. Instead he focused on watching the kids. Talitha was playing with other girls, holding her fairy doll, which Harry Petrified earlier. God forbid it would fly in front of muggles. Even children.

Abraxos however was rocking on swing set alone. He didn't interact with other children at all. Occasionally Harry would catch him casting dark and menacing looks in Talitha's direction. Harry frowned. Maybe the boy had a hard time making friends, but that certainly didn't explain why he was upset with his sister.

Harry rolled the pram in the direction of the swing set.

 _“_ It's a bit lonely out here don't you think?” Harry asked the boy. When he sent the kids to the playground he thought they were having fun. He wondered if this was how every day went. Abraxos just sitting out here alone, ignoring his sister and everybody else. “Are you having trouble making friends with other kids?”

 _“_ Why would I make friends with them?” the boy asked incredulously. “They're muggles.”

Harry paused. It was true that he didn't have close friends before Ron and Hermione, but he was just an unpopular kid. He wasn't acting on prejudice, like Abraxos. What could he possibly say to the boy? He didn't understand how someone so young could believe one group of people was inferior to the other.

 _“_ Would your father be upset if he saw you playing with muggles?”

The boy frowned. “I don't know, I've never played with muggles before.”

Harry sat on the swings next to the child. He rocked himself gently still keeping an eye on Clara.

 _“_ Talitha seems to like her new friends,” he remarked.

 _“_ She shouldn't! They're muggles! Father said they should serve the Wizard kind same as house-elves.”

Harry sighed. Unintended, thoughts of Sirius rose in his mind. His godfather was raised in horribly bigoted family, but he never adopted the views of his circle as his own. He felt a pang in his chest, remembering his godfather. How did Sirius do it? How did he grow up such a free loving and fair spirit?

 _“_ You know my friend Hermione?” he asked suddenly.

 _“_ Yes, the hair lady.”

Harry smiled in spite of himself. “Yes, her,” he confirmed. “She believes house-elves should be treated fairly and given wages. Employed, instead of serving as slaves. They should be free.”

 _“_ Wages?” asked the boy confused.

 _“_ They should get paid for their work. What do you think?”

 _“_ I've never met a free house-elf.”

 _“_ I've known a free house-elf,” smiled Harry wistfully. “His name was Dobby.”

 _“_ What happened to him?”

 _“_ He perished in the war.” Abraxos lifted his eyes from the ground and looked at Harry.

 _“_ What does the hair lady think of muggles?”

 _“_ That they equal to wizards and should be treated as such. My mother was a muggle-born. In fact, Hermione is too,” Harry looked closer at the boy's face. The child had mutinous look on his face.

 _“_ But pureblooded wizards had the magic first! Muggle-borns are invaders to our world,” he said stubbornly.

Harry fought Voldemort, but he had never been properly introduced to anti-muggle rhetoric the man spewed. He was woefully unprepared to argue specific bigoted points his followers made up.

 _“_ It's a bit similar to the muggle immigrations problem, I think. When someone comes to this country and becomes a citizen they should be treated accordingly. They traveled from one world to another, yes, but they should be treated as a human being in both, don't you think? I think whenever we go, what world, wizarding or muggle: a human should be treated as human being.”

The child was at a loss of the words. He stared at the boys playing on the playground and his face revealed nothing. One conversation probably wouldn't be enough to change his mind and strip him of his father’s prejudice. Even given proper time and nurture he still might choose his fathers bigoted beliefs, out of misguided sense of loyalty. Harry understood that. He never knew his father, but believing his father approved of him gave him a great sense of comfort.

Would his father approve of his new friendship with Snape? Would his mother? It didn't matter to him as much as it would have not so long ago. He was, frankly, done with being dictated how to live accoring to what others required. He admired the man. He was the bravest person Harry knew. He felt like he knew the man better than anyone. He felt like Snape's memories revealed to him the lost boy who made all the wrong choices when he was young. He wore second hand clothes like Harry did. His home life wasn't better than what he himself had with Dursleys. He was bullied from the first day of school and drove away the only friend he loved. Snape was a mysterious man and even now Harry didn't know what went on in that greasy head of his. But he felt like he understood him better.

He and Abraxos sat there at the swings the rest of the afternoon. At some point he offered the boy to introduce him to the rest of the children, but the boy declined his offer. Harry was sad for him. He found the boy's sadistic tendencies and bigoted beliefs morbid, but that didn't mean he didn't believe the child could change. Not to mention the boy's parents were likely to blame for how Abraxos was turning out.

This way the week went. Harry took care of three children and even though he didn't have a free moment to spare things were going alright. Abraxos condescended to have a conversation with a muggle boy. Although the boy quickly asked him what videogames he was playing, confusing the child, Harry still considered it a success.

One thing was notably absent from their life, however.

Snape.

The man had all, but disappeared. At first Harry was waiting for him to show, but he quickly learned that was a futile waste of time. Apparently the man didn't think Harry needed assistance with the children anymore. Harry wasn't the proud sort, when it came to Snape, as he discovered. He would gladly send an owl and invite the wizard to Mrs. Figg’s.

Problem was, he didn't have an owl. He lived in muggle neighborhood and all he could do is send a Patronus to contact the man. He was debating intruding upon the man's privacy for two days, before he gave up and sent a Patronus. It's was quick message welcoming Snape back into the house and an expression of gratitude for saving Harry's life again.

Of course, when the older man didn't show Harry realized he probably moved on to better things. Even though his time with children was less tumultuous than before, he couldn't help, but notice taking care of them was different when he had Snape around. There was no more blissful afternoon tea to share, no more knowing looks exchanged between the two of them. Abraxos was no longer practicing his magic, although Harry made sure the boy wasn't bored enough to go after small animals. He did take an unusual interest in the cats, however. Harry was waiting for the day he might find him torturing the poor feline creatures, so he never left the child alone with them.

Harry missed the man, but he also had plenty of time to think about him. He was convinced now he had the man as a friend, maybe even a mentor. Like what he shared with Lupin, _not_ Dumbledore. That meant that whatever feelings of hatred he harbored for Harry before – they no longer mattered to the man. Even if Snape was now satisfied with leaving him to his own ends, it didn't mean Harry be friend with the Potions Master, after he was free to do as he wished. It meant, he could seek Snape out and try to be closer to the man.

If that was what he wanted. And, indeed, he wanted to. Very much.

It was much to his surprise, however, when at the end of the week, someone rang his door. Of course it could be a nosy neighbor. Aunt Petunia had plenty of well-meaning visits from her neighbors. But he didn't get a single such visit, since the DA started to use this house. So it wouldn't be exaggeration, to say Harry was convinced it was Snape at his door. He bolted towards the entrance full of hope. His smile fell from his lips once he opened the door. Ginny Weasley's face grinned at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like the story so far!


	3. Chapter 3

Oh, he forgot about Ginny. Which, he sensed, wasn't fair at all towards the girl.

 _“_ Hi, Harry,” she greeted.

 _“_ Hello, Gin,” Harry summoned an answering grin. “Please come in.”

They ventured into the kitchen, where Harry was cooking lunch.

 _“_ Oh, it smells delicious.”

 _“_ Thank you. How is everybody else doing?” Harry resumed chopping scallions, to keep his hands busy. He kept his eyes down on the greens, while she stood before him. He didn't know how to talk to his girlfriend, how pathetic was that?

 _“_ Oh, everybody's having a good time. I keep contact with almost all of the DA, you know. The Dean Forest deal sort made the DA come closer together. How have you been?”

 _“_ Good, good. I'm taking care of the Mason’s children.”

 _“_ What? Janus Mason?” Ginny's expression went pale, her voice loud. Harry regretted instantly bringing it up. “The crazy sadist?”

Harry looked at the kitchen door, worriedly. It wouldn't do for children to overhear their conversation. He took a long look at Ginny. She looked as pretty as ever. Not so long ago he was strongly infatuated with her. Not so long ago he was convinced her fierce nature complimented his perfectly.

 _“_ Please keep your voice down. Yes, I'm watching over his children,” he confirmed.

 _“_ But Harry, he tortured the students. Even first years.”

 _“_ Can't fault the kids for that, can you?”

Ginny's expression softened. “No, I suppose you can't.” She shook her head, banishing grim thoughts.

 _“_ You've asked how is everybody doing. Did you know Seamus and Dean lost their kid?”

 _“_ What?” Harry looked up from chopping, baffled.

 _“_ True story. Apparently the kid went exploring on Seamus's farm and found an old water well. He jumped in,” Harry's eyebrows rose. It occurred to him, that he was adopting Snape's face expressions. “Don't ask me why, but accidental magic prevented him from getting hurt,” she added. “Well, once the kid was at the bottom of the well, he didn't know how to get out and _everybody_ simply lost him.”

Harry groaned in sympathy. He still remembered what it was like to be young and go on adventures, without thinking the consequences through. He imagined what Snape would have said. Something like 'There's no accounting for stupidity, Mr. Potter'.

 _“_ How old is the boy?”

 _“_ Old enough to qualify for Hogwarts this year. The guys have already bought him all the supplies for school.”

Ginny tossed her hair and smiled at him.

 _“_ They even asked the DA members in school to come help with the search for the kid,” Ginny continued after a pause. “Imagine all of us, well those who stayed to rebuild the school, with our wands out, walking around the Scottish countryside screaming “Evan!”

Harry laughed. Ginny always had a good sense of humor and her delivery was perfect.

 _“_ There I am, buried waist deep in the grass, when I hear something. I look around, but I see nothing. Of course I am confused; they've said the kid is tall enough to notice him in the grass. I scream my lungs out and I hear something again. I go in the direction the voice is coming and wander right past it! The voice is now behind me. Long story short I've been wandering around that well for thirty minutes and then when I eventually stumbled across it, you have no idea how done I was.”

 _“_ You were the one who found him?”

 _“_ Yes, a true hero, don't you think?” she winked at him. “Hope the kid end up in Gryffindor. Suppose Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw will do too, everything better than a Slytherin.”

 _“_ Doubt it would be a Slytherin, no Slytherin would ever jump into the well without a plan. Too stupid,” laughed Harry.

Ginny blinked. “Well, don't go around pretending they're the intellectual bunch. Crabbe and Goyle, remember?”

Harry looked at her in surprise. “Bit prejudiced towards the house, don't you think?”

 _“_ The whole house is bad news,” the girl said boldly. Harry noticed a movement around the door. He didn't have a time to react, when he heard a cry pierce the air. The sound was coming from the second floor. He supposed Clara was awake now.

 _“_ It's Clara,” he explained to Ginny. “I'll be right back.”

He took the infant from her crib and climbed downstairs with baby in his arms. He stepped into the kitchen and Ginny turned. Another smile bloomed on her face.

 _“_ Oh, look,” she cooed. “Who do we have here?”

Ginny bent to the little girl.

 _“_ Don't touch her,” said a thin cold voice.

Harry turned towards the door. He guessed that the movement he saw earlier was one of the kids. Apparently it was Abraxos. Curse his luck.

 _“_ Abraxos. This is my friend,” Ginny winced and Harry blushed. Should he have introduced her as his girlfriend? “Ginny Weasley,” he tried to keep his voice patient. The boy's face held a stubborn expression and his blue eyes were focused solely on Ginny.

 _“_ I think I'll touch whomever I please,” the girl shot back.

Harry threw an annoyed look at her. Trust Gin to escalate the situation.

 _“_ She's _my_ sister and _I_ say you can't touch her.”

Harry was confused. It wasn't like boy to be so protective of his sister. He let Hermione take care of them and she was a muggle-born. Abraxos must have overheard Ginny, when she spoke unfavorably about Slytherin. Maybe he even heard say Janus Mason was a sadist. He looked perplexedly at Ginny. She had a calculating look on her. Oh, no. This was going to be trouble.

 _“_ Harry,” she snapped. “Give me the girl,” she commanded.

He threw a dirty look at her direction. Really, couldn't she be more mature about this?

 _“_ I don't think that's a good idea, Gin,” he said apologetically. Clara was oblivious to her surroundings. She, apparently, have taken an interest in Ginny's long red hair and was reaching for her.

Ginny threw him an incredulous look. He pursed his lips in response. Great, another face expression he adopted from Snape. Sometimes Harry felt like the man had gotten under his skin, into his blood.

The girl stepped in his direction. Abraxos made a noise and Harry looked at him in time to notice the boy's face get a concentrated ugly expression he wore, when he tormented the poor bird.

Suddenly a strong magical force knocked Ginny few steps backward, until her back hit the kitchen cabinets. Harry gasped. He didn't need a magical brawl in Mrs. Figg’s house! He couldn't even whip out his wand, Clara chose that precise moment to grow restless in his arms and he was putting all of his effort not to drop her. He looked between Abraxos and Ginny. Abraxos had a smug expression on his face.

Ginny whipped her wand instantly. “Why you dirty little...” The rest of her sentence drowned in a start of a curse, that Harry was sure was the Bat-Bogey Hex.

 _“_ Enough!” he roared. “Both of you!”

Clara in his arms was startled by the loud noise and started crying. “Oh, sorry baby-girl.”

 _“_ Look what you've done,” accused Abraxos addressing Ginny.

 _“_ That was _not_ my fault,” she defended herself.

 _“_ Ginny,” he summoned his most resolute voice. “Perhaps now isn't a good time for a visit.”

The girl looked hurt by his words. “Are you telling me to leave?”

Harry winced. He was just starting to get used to having Gin around after they've been apart for so long. He didn't fault her for picking a fight with Abraxos, but he couldn't pick her side. He needed to prioritize the children. They were his responsibility. And if he was honest, Clara _was_ Abraxos's sister. Did that mean he would get to decide who could play with his sister? Harry didn't know. But he didn't want to find out how the boy would react if the fight escalated further.

 _“_ Fine,” the girl said after a moment. She straightened and flipped the red hair from her face. “You'll contact me, when you'll need me,” with those words she was gone from the house.

Great, Harry congratulated himself, fucking marvelous.

 

***

 

The next day took a wrong turn from the very start. The stove shocked him senseless when he touched it. Thankfully it only happened once, but it was with enough force behind it, that Harry's entire body felt peculiar. He was short of breath and his stomach hurt. He also burned his hand. He was very careful when he touched the stove next, but nothing happened. Well, it seemed that his bad luck was to blame again.

He got the next shock of his life, however, when he spotted an owl flying in the direction of the house. He was just watering the plants and looking out the window, when it landed in the yard and a thin envelope was dropped in the letterbox. Harry rushed to pick up the letter and opened it only to discover that it was from McGonagall. She wrote:\

 

_Mr Potter,_

_Let me preface this letter by stating I am aware of your current occupation. You're, no doubt, busy watching after Janus Mason's children. I hope you are well and the children don't bring you unnecessary trouble. I've debated with sending you this letter, but since nobody else appears to be volunteering to take care of it, I find myself seeking your help. I don't know if you're aware of this, but Severus Snape has been incarcerated by the Ministry to await his trial. After he returned from St. Mungo from watching over you the Aurors seized him the same morning. Harry, this is a most unfair decision, let me tell you! Severus is still unwell after his injuries, not to mention, he's no criminal to await a trial in a prison cell. If you could kindly use your influence to help him, I'd most appreciate it._

_Yours truly,_

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall\_

 

Bloody hell! Snape was in a Ministry's holding cell. Maybe even Azkaban. And Harry sent him a  Patronus, inviting him to come over. Harry groaned. He must have thought I was making fun of him! No wonder the man didn't show. But Ron and Hermione must have known something about this. Why didn't they sent him a letter, informing him of the news? Unless they didn't think it was important.

A week passed! An entire week imprisoned, while Harry was busy doing nothing. He must go to the Ministry at once. Harry ran over to the second floor to put his robes. He put them over his jeans and t-shirt and then looked in the mirror and smoothed his hair. Harry turned only to be faced with baby sleeping in her cot.

The children! How could he forget about the children. He couldn't bring all three of them to the Ministry with him. Harry imagined himself rolling a pram into the toilet cabin in front of the Ministry and shuddered. Great, who could he leave the kids with? Maybe Ginny? Harry imagined her and Abraxos in one room for a moment and tossed the idea. He didn't want to bother Ron and Hermione, when he already told them he could watch over the kids on his own. But Snape was more important.

The doorbell rang. Harry groaned in frustration. Now he was having visitors, of all the times they could have come. He jumped down the stairs rushing to get this affair done with. After all that running he opened the door panting.

 _“_ Dudley!”

 _“_ Hi, Harry. I was just nearby and wanted to check if your other friends were home,” Dudley's blond hair were laid very neatly. He was wearing a new shirt and crisply ironed pants.

 _“_ It's not really a great time for a visit...” Harry started.

 _“_ No, I understand.” self-depreciating smile on his face appeared on Dudley's face.

Harry took pity on the boy.

 _“_ Susan's not here anyway. She's at Hogwarts, rebuilding the castle.”

 _“_ Oh,” the boy sighed. He looked at Harry and his robes. “Are you heading out?”

 _“_ I was going to, but I've no one to leave the children with,” Harry said frustrated.

 _“_ Yes, Susan mentioned you watched over some orphans,” the boy said thoughtfully. He was clearly thinking about something. Suddenly his face cleared. “You can leave the kids with me and my mum.”

 _“_ What?” Harry looked at Dudley baffled. “No!”

 _“_ Don't worry, mum took care of you and me when we were babies. I'm sure she can handle the youngest. How old is she?”

 _“_ Six month,” he replied automatically. “Aunt Petunia loathes wizards, Dudley, I can't leave three magical children with her.”

 _“_ You'll be also leaving them with me. I talk to ma, tell her it's important we treat our guests right. In exchange...”

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. He knew the boy wouldn't offer to help him for nothing.

 _“_ In exchange for what?” he said already meaning to refuse the kind offer.

 _“_ For you putting in a good word for me to Susan,” said the boy calmly.

 _“_ That's it? Are you sure?” Harry asked surprised.

 _“_ Yes.”

Five minutes later Harry was introducing Abraxos and Talitha to Dudley. The introduction seemed to go well enough. Harry had gathered Clara's things in a bag and walked ten minutes to Dursley's home with all the children in tow. Dudley rang the door and Harry watched as he hastily explained aunt Petunia something. Probably why they have found themselves saddled with three children on bright morning like this.

Harry, remembering his exchange with aunt Petunia only a month ago, had a benevolent attitude towards the woman. He watched as Dudley turned and beckoned the children closer. He let the children go and walked the rest of the distance to the house with Clara in his arms. He passed the baby right into his aunt's arms.

 _“_ This is Clara, aunt Petunia.” Harry said. He fidgeted with her bag nervously. “I've packed her bottle and baby formula, and nappies.”

 _“_ Oh! Heavy, aren't you” exclaimed the woman to the infant.

 _“_ I'm going to be off for couple of hours,” explained Harry. The woman gave him disapproving look, but nodded. She understood, then. Well, he best get going.

Abraxos blue eyes narrowed at Dudley.

 _“_ You're a muggle. Do you know what videogames are?” he asked solemnly.

 _“_ Best to show it to ya.”

 

***

 

Harry walked through the dark Ministry and tried to keep his head down. He didn't want people recognizing him. The walls were as shiny and imposing as usual, but there were fewer people around. He supposed it was quite late in the morning, when everyone had already arrived and was sitting in their cabinets.

The Atrium looked as it did when Harry visited it the last time. He approached the place where Magic is Might monument was supposed to be standing. In place where the monument has been there was an empty space. The lights overhead were still there, illuminating the dais. Harry stared at them for a moment. They must have removed the monument, when Voldemort died.

He moved further heading straight to the lifts. The wizards that entered the lift with him didn't pay him any attention and Harry was grateful for that. He exited on the second floor, heading for Auror headquarters. The Auror department was busy as usual. There was a conversation and laughter around the open cubicles. There were pictures of escaped Death Eaters on the walls. Some were school pictures. Harry assumed a confident stride and headed to where he remembered Kingsley's cubicle should be, near the end.

A witch noticed him and her laughter died down instantly. She turned to her friend and nodded in his direction. The wizard turned and an expression of surprise crossed his features. Thankfully, no one tried to approach him. He reached Kingsley's cubicle and found the man sitting over his desk. His tense shoulders relaxed marginally.

 _“_ Kingsley.”

The wizard lifted his head from the papers he was examining and beamed at him.

 _“_ Harry!” he shook Harry's hand enthusiastically. “I must confess I've expected you earlier.”

 _“_ You've been expecting me?” the boy asked surprised.

 _“_ I've known Headmistress McGonagall would send someone to me about Snape's buiseness,” the man said. His eyes darted around the cubicles. Harry wasn't sure they could talk freely.

 _“_ Where's is he?” he whispered.

 _“_ The Azkaban is too busy right now. He's in the Ministry's holding cells.” Harry blinked; relieved to hear Snape wasn't in Azkaban. He didn't know if the place began to employ the Dementors again, but he knew: getting Snape out of Azkaban would prove to be challenging.

 _“_ I want him out,” said the boy frankly.

 _“_ I understand,” noded the Auror. “But there are conditions, you realize. The new Wizengamot assembly is worried the criminals would flee the country. The only way we could release Snape is on bail, to a guardian, who would vow to watch him twenty for seven.”

 _“_ I'll be his guardian,” Harry said immediately. Kingsley didn't appear surprised.

 _“_ He'll become your full responsibility. His assets have been frozen. It’s a new policy by the Ministry. The Goblins have allowed us to restrict the access to the vaults of known Death Eaters in exchange for generous donation to repair the bank. They’ve also demanded a new dragon. Quite unprecedented let me tell you. Snape can only conduct transactions with Gringotts with your signed approval. If he were to flee the country, you would be held responsible,” explained the older man. He watched Harry's face closely.

 _“_ I'll be his guardian,” repeated Harry. He held Kingsley's heavy gaze and the man nodded.

 _“_ Very well. I need to prepare the papers.”

Harry looked around the Aurors cubicle. It was buried under stacks of paper.

 _“_ How the things have been? In the Ministry, I mean?” the boy inquired.

 _“_ Busy. Now that there's no Minister I've been finding myself with more and more responsibilities each day,” he gestured at the mess on his table.

 _“_ Have you thought about promotion?” smiled Harry.

Kingsley's gaze turned shrewd. He returned the boy's smile. “Maybe,” he replied shortly. “Do you need anything else?”

 _“_ Snape,” the words escaped on their own. Harry blushed. “I mean, can I see him, that is?”

Kingsley stood up and called for an Auror. A blonde man in his thirties with a pronounced limp approached their cubicle and Kingsley tasked him with escorting Harry to the cells below. Harry nodded to the man and said hello. The man nodded back, but stayed silent. He reminded Harry uncomfortably of an older version of Draco Malfoy.

 _“_ Follow me,” said the Auror.

The approached the lift in silence. Harry was fidgeting nervously. God, Snape must be really, really angry he has been detained. To follow Dumbledore's orders to the bitter end, almost get killed fighting Voldermort, but still end up in a Ministry's holding cells. If it would be Harry in his place, he would be livid at the unfairness of it all.

They've entered a lift and the Auror that accompanied him pressed the button for the lower levels. Harry shivered. Being back at this place brought up many unpleasant memories. The lift moved slowly between different floors, with wizards going in and out. Harry kept to the back with his face down and his fringe in his eyes to hide his scar. Couple of purple paper airplanes flew above their heads. The lower they went the fewer people and notes were left in the lift. Then only Harry and Auror remained.

The man rubbed his limping leg absentmindedly. He caught Harry looking.

 _“_ Death Eater curse,” he explained. The man had a thin high voice, which suited his complexion. “Couldn't figure out what brand of Dark Magic it was. Gives me trouble in rainy weather,” he patted his leg, “Which in this bloody country means the most days,” he complained.

Harry was pretty sure the man hadn't been a member of the Order. How did he get his injuries? As far as he knew the Aurors were aligned with the Ministry and the Ministry was under Voldemort's rule. At Harry's questioning look, the man replied:

 _“_ The Hogwarts battle. When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked the school, I had to be there.”

 _“_ Oh,” Harry said. This explained why Kingsley trusted this man. “We've lost of lot of good people that day,” he said sadly.

The man nodded. “Hot summer, isn't it?” he commented.

 _“_ Yes,” replied Harry.

The lift grew silent. They didn't talk the rest of the way, when the lift stopped. The floor was dark, with a dim, charmed lights on the side walls. The place was dank and reeked of unwashed socks. They turned left and walked through a corridor to a room with three iron doors. A man sat in a chair in the middle of the room, reading paper. An Auror greeted him and whispered something to his ear. The man opened the middle door and Harry followed the Auror into another corridor. This one had cells on the right. There were people in them, most of them simply lying on their cots. They paid no attention to the visitors. They reached the end of corridor and stopped.

The Auror made a complicated movement with his wand and whispered a spell. A ripple went through a barred wall. The man nodded at the direction of the bars. Confused, Harry reached for them and his hands went right through. The man in the cell turned on his cot. Harry stepped into the cell.

 _“_ How long?”

Harry looked at the Auror. Belatedly he realized the man was asking how long his visit should last.

 _“_ Just tell Kingsley to send someone when the papers are ready.”

The Auror left and Harry turned to face the bed. Two glittering eyes were watching him carefully. He smiled. Snape sat down on his cot and Harry took a closer look at the man. He was surprised to see the bandages around Snape's throat were gone. He had ugly scars forming stitches on the right side of his neck. There were circles back under Snape's eyes and his hair looked greasy. Harry expected the man to be angry, but the older man looked calm.

 _“_ Hi,” he smiled. “I'm so sorry they took you,” Harry whispered. “It was so unfair.”

 _“_ Unfair? Hardly,” the man's gaze weighted heavily on Harry's face. There's was something hungry in his eyes. “I committed murder, if your memory fails you.”

 _“_ On Dumbledore's orders,” the boy replied hotly. “You don't deserve to be here.”

 _“_ I was a Death Eater. Perhaps it is time I got what I truly deserve.”

 _“_ You can't mean that,” said Harry angry. Snape simply shrugged.

 _“_ No matter what your emotions tell you, in the eyes of the law I'm a criminal Potter.”

 _“_ I didn't come here to argue with you,” sighed the boy. He looked around the cell, but there was no chair or a stool he could sit on. He felt uncomfortable standing, looking down on Snape. “God you look awful, Snape.”

 _“_ Please refrain from commenting on my appearance,” finally there was some fire behind those black eyes.

 _“_ Right, sorry... I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, I didn't know you were here.”

 _“_ Your apologies are unnecessary,” dismissed the man.

Harry tried not to stare at Snape's scars, but his gaze kept slipping from the man's face, onto his neck. Something painful clenched in his gut every time he looked at inflamed tissue. He still remembered what it was like to have Snape's blood pouring through his hands. Red, there was so much red. Back then it felt unbelievable, that Snape could bleed like a mere mortal. But here he was, today, sitting in front of Harry. Almost completely healed.

The man noticed him staring. His hands clenched in fists. He was probably fighting the urge to cover his scars, Harry thought. Couldn't show him his weakness. The cell was dank, but didn't smell particularly foul. There was one dim source of light on ceiling. Snape's face was marred in shadows. His prominent nose looked even bigger than usual.

 _“_ I've sent you a Patronus, asking you to come and visit. I thought you've decided to ignore me,” confessed Harry.

Snape's raised an eyebrow. “Very likely outcome, don't you think?”

Harry did think that. But his instincts were telling him Snape was simply avoiding the subject. The man had probably received his Patronus, while he was imprisoned. He couldn't answer Harry, he didn't have his wand on him.

Harry searched his mind for neutral topic. Unbidden, Snape's kiss rose in his mind. Harry tried not to blush. He was being ridiculous. He tried focusing on something else.

 _“_ The kids are at Dursley's,” confessed Harry.

That got Snape's attention. He straightened on his cot and looked at the boy closely.

 _“_ You're sure that's wise?”

 _“_ Not in the slightest, but Dudley's got a thing for this girl and he's eager to show how accepting of wizards he is.”

Snape shook his head. “Your aunt wouldn't approve.”

 _“_ Not in the beginning maybe,” Harry shrugged. “But trust me – I've seen enough of Dudley's tantrums to know he always gets what he wants.”

Even now he was a bit bitter about it. He wondered if it showed. Dudley could throw a tantrum in a middle of grocery store and get all the sweets he wanted, but when Harry asked politely for something cheap (he knew already that Dursleys hated spending money on him) he would always get rebuked. He still remembered how getting his own money felt. Sharing chocolate frogs with Ron was one of his favorite memories.

He wondered if Snape knew how it felt. From the memories the man showed him his family wasn't really well off, like Dursleys or even his mom, were. Snape probably couldn't treat his mom to sweets, but he told her tales about magic and Hogwarts. When did their friendship start to fall apart, Harry wondered.

 _“_ It's strange now that you think about it” commented the boy. “How the life sort of takes you in the direction you've least expected sometimes. Do you know what I mean?”

 _“_ Not particularly, no.”

He frowned. He didn't know how to explain to Severus what he was feeling. Not so long ago he and Snape were sworn enemies. And now... Now Harry couldn't stop yearning for the man's company. So quickly, the things have changed between them. He always imagined himself with a family when he grew older, but now with Abraxos, Talitha and Clara... he found himself wondering if he was ready for a commitment like that. Sure, he found a way to watch over the kids without causing a catastrophe, but there were more important things than feeding a child. Like teaching them right from wrong, showing them how the world worked and Harry was pants at that.

He tried to sort out through his feelings.

 _“_ Take Dudley for example. He should have taken job at Grunnings and married some muggle girl and led a very mundane existence.” And Dudley isn't the only one who was failing to conform to what was expected of him, Harry wanted to add.

 _“_ Which still could happen,” Snape said skeptically.

 _“_ I don't know, I'm really not sure,” Harry watched how Snape put his thin gray blanket around his shoulders. “Ginny came by the other day.”

The older man's eyes flashed at him. His fists clenched around the blanket. When he spoke his voice was ever slightly deeper.

 _“_ Ah, Ms. Weasley.”

 _“_ I always thought that's how it was going to be when the war is over. Me and her, and a whole bunch of little Potters,” Harry confessed. But now he wasn't sure what made him think Ginny and him were at all compatible. Truthfully, sometimes when they were together he and Ginny reminded him of a different version of Lily and James. Just another popular couple, who was into sports together and made mean jokes at the expense of everyone else. It was fun more than anything else. But Harry always knew he needed something deeper than that.

 _“_ Heaven forbid I work at school still when this happens,” Snape rolled his eyes.

 _“_ That's the thing though Snape, I don't really think it will.”

Snape sighed. “You're young and free to change your mind to where the wind blows. No doubt you'll want to be like your godfather and go exploring the world before settling down,” his fingers unconsciously traced the patters of his scars. “But you will settle down Potter, mark my words,” Snape's voice sounded resigned.

Harry huffed annoyed. “You're doing it again.”

 _“_ What?”

 _“_ You're assuming stuff about me without really seeing me Sev... Snape,” Harry stumbled on the man's first name. He was using it freely before and now after being away from the older man for a week, he was feeling shy. This Snape appeared to have his guard up and Harry was trying not to get angry at that. He was failing.

 _“_ You've imagined having a family, you've said it yourself,” Snape sneered. He said the word 'family' like it was a curse word.

Harry looked at Snape, anger boiling in his gut. “God, you're frustrating prick.”

 _“_ Back to the lovely endearments, I suppose... took you long enough,” the man face has become haughty.

 _“_ I didn't mean...” Harry shook his head, disappointed. “Nevermind. I thought you'd understand.”

 _“_ I, Mis-ter Potter, never had the freedom of the choices you possess,” the man started. “From my youth when I condemned myself to the fate of being a pawn in mad megalomaniac's game, I've had to slither myself between his orders before I defected... To another master. No, I've never known such freedom as your own. Certainly through my own foolish mistakes, but even then they were dictated by my poor finances. Certain connections,” Snape's way of saying Death Eaters he supposed, “were the only way to obtain some semblance of stability.”

 _“_ You've had something more important, though.”

Severus tilted his head in wonder.

 _“_ You might not have had money, but you've had love. My mum,” Harry voice wavered at the end. This was a first time he brought up his mom in Snape's presence, since he saw his memories. He wasn't sure how the man would react.

Snape's nostrils flared. He appeared to be angry.

 _“_ Do not speak of Lily Evans, as if you know what you're talking about,” he hissed.

 _“_ Fine. You know what – fine,” Harry gave up and dropped onto the thin cot beside Snape.

They sat in an awkward silence for a while and the older man was the one to disturb it first.

 _“_ Is that what you want?” Snape asked, turning his shoulders so that he faced the boy.

 _“_ Want what?” Harry had completely lost the track of the conversation.

Snape's face contorted in disgust. “Love.”

 _“_ I want someone to want me for me. Not the Boy-Who-Lived. But how can I ever trust someone to love me for me? After what I did I'll be famous to the entire Wizarding world, just like Dumbledore was after defeating Grindelwald.”

 _“_ This bothers you so much?”

 _“_ I don't know. Yes. You probably think I'm an idiot.”

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but they were interrupted by the sound of heavy iron door opening. They could hear footsteps approaching their cell. Harry stole a glance at Snape. The man looked tired. There were no papers, magazines or books in the cell. He was probably the first man Snape has talked to in a week. The poor man was probably left to marinate in his own thoughts. Ruminating in misery for a week. He wanted to comfort him, but he didn't know how.

Harry expected the Auror who followed him down here to show up, but it was Kingsley who he saw between the bars. The man was holding some papers and quill in his arms.

 _“_ The papers are ready for you to sign them, Harry,” he waved a wand at them. “Hello, Severus.”

 _“_ Shacklebolt. What did you involve Potter in this time?”

 _“_ He's to be your guardian. To look after you, see to it that you don't flee the country.”

 _“_ No, thank you,” Snape crossed his arms in front of him. “I'm doing splendid here.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, you're not.” Harry stood up from the cot and walked through the bars. The magic let him pass as easily as before. “Show me where to sign.”

 

***

 

The journey back from the Ministry took less than quarter of an hour. Kingsley brought Snape's wand and confided he had to pull some strings to get it. Harry expressed his gratitude to the man, while Snape stood there sneering. He took his wand back readily enough. They've apparated to the Privet Drive.

Harry left the man in Mrs. Figg's house and went after the children. Petunia met him with the usual distrust and Clara was sleeping in her pram. It was unexpected how worried he was for them. Abroaxos surprised him the most. He was overexcited and was reluctant to leave the Dursleys.

 _“_ Pew, pew, pew,” the boy mimicked shooting guns.

 _“_ You learned about guns, I see,” interpreted Harry.

 _“_ I'm shooting lasers.”

 _“_ Right.”

 _“_ Did you know about videogames? We played them with Dudley. Can we come again?” he rambled.

Harry was surprised by the change. Although he had no intention of leaving the children with Dursleys again, afraid to test his aunt's patience, he kept that information to himself. He asked the children to thank Petunia and Dudley for their hospitality and returned them to Mrs. Figg’s.

The day went smoothly, until the evening came and it was increasingly apparent that the house was not big enough to handle so many people. Currently Harry was at a loss with Snape's sleeping arrangements. He tried to transfigure the bed in the master bedroom in two, but there was simply not enough space for it. Resigned, he started to move blankets downstairs to sleep on the sofa.

Harry looked at the sofa he was supposed to be sleeping at. It was an old, beaten down thing, covered in cat hair. He cast a quick Scourgify on it. The sofa was too small to hold even someone as short and thin as Harry.

 _“_ What are you doing?” Snape's voice distracted him from his worries. The man was good at that, Harry though. Distracting him from watching over children, from worrying, from making a mess of himself.

 _“_ Um... I'm just trying to prepare a place for sleep.”

 _“_ Well, I suppose if you transfigure the sofa to accommodate me,” Snape waved his wand. The sofa grew in size, but was almost instantly stopped by the wall and other furniture. There was simply not enough space.

 _“_ I don't need it to fit you,” said Harry exasperated. “ _I'm_ the one who's taking the sofa and _you'll_ be the one to take the bed upstairs.”

 _“_ What a foolish notion Potter,” the man huffed. “I realize you do not wish to share bed with me, but there's no need to for such extreme measures. I've no intention to chase you from your bed.”

 _“_ I don't wish to share a bed with you...?” Harry gasped. “That's not... I'm not... Ugh!” frustrated he threw his hands in air. “Do you wish to share a bed with me?” Because Harry was convinced Snape would be vehemently opposed to that.

 _“_ My wishes do not matter. There's only one bed and if you do not want me there, I'll sleep on the floor,” replied the man sullenly.

 _“_ I don't _not_ wish you there,” Harry winced at an awkward wording. He wasn't going to admit he wanted Snape in his bed! He still remembered how it was like to share a bed with Snape, when his ankle was twisted. God, what an embarrassment he has been. Using the man's chest as a pillow.

 _“_ I see.”

 _“_ I mean. I have no problem with sharing a bed.” It wasn't even for long anyway. When the kids would return to the Orphanage, they would move to Grimmauld's Place, which had plenty of space for them both. That though wasn't as comforting, as Harry expected it to be.

Harry checked that the children went to sleep after brushing their teeth and entered the bedroom. Snape was already sitting on the bed with a thin sheet covering his from chest down. He looked utterly bizarre surrounded by the flowery room decorations. His naked shoulders attracted Harry's attention.

 _“_ You not wearing...” he said quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping baby.

 _“_ I've got no nightclothes with me,” whispered Snape back. The color was high in his cheeks.

 _“_ That's alright,” Harry said lightly. He didn't feel like it was alright at all. Was he really going to sleep with his practically naked professor in one bed? Harry stifled a giggle.

Snape looked at him like he was simple. Harry felt like an idiot. Clara was sleeping peacefully in her crib. He grabbed his pajamas and changed in them in the bathroom. He looked at the bathroom mirror and found himself staring at his face. He had light stubble in the evenings now. His green eyes looked tired behind the round glasses. Trying to not make a lot of noise, lest he wake the baby, he tiptoed into the bedroom and climbed into the bed. He doused the lights with a flick of his wand.

Snape was already under the covers, with only his hair visible. Harry felt sorry for the man. His professor probably felt too uncomfortable and now was hiding underneath the hot blankets. Harry himself used a thin sheet with ugly big blue flowers on it. He covered himself and closed his eyes. It suddenly occurred to him Kingsley didn't really have a time to explain to Snape what Harry's guardianship meant.

 _“_ Mmm... Snape,” he turned his head in the man's direction. “Um... Severus,” he tried.

 _“_ What now, Potter?” it was obvious Snape vocal cords were healing, his baritone close to the way Harry was used to hear it in the classroom. It warmed something in his stomach.

 _“_ Your Gringotts account has been frozen. You need my signature to manage your money,” Harry prepared for Snape's reaction.

 _“_ Marvelous,” the man said curtly.

 _“_ And I need to watch you all the time. You'll need to live with me until the trial.”

 _“_ I've figured as much. I didn't come here to stay with you in this house for because I wished it,” Snape finally turned, causing the bed to shake and the mattress to crinkle loudly. Harry could make out his profile in the darkness.

 _“_ Look at the bright side. You'll have all the time in the world to watch over me,” Harry joked.

 _“_ I require my things, Potter.”

 _“_ Right. I'll see what I can do about them.”

Snape sighed.

Harry thought about counting sheep. He counted to only twenty, when he lost count and turned to face the man again.

 _“_ Does this feel weird for you?”

 _“_ Talking instead of sleeping?” asked a skeptical voice.

 _“_ No, you know what I mean,” Harry tried to get more comfortable in the bed. The springs sighed loudly.

 _“_ Potter, you're the one who insisted this was going to be fine,” said Snape unsure.

 _“_ No, it's good,” reassured him Harry.

 _“_ Go to sleep, Potter.”

Despite his fears, he was quickly lulled into sleep. He dreamed of a Quidditch pitch. It was rainy and he had trouble spotting a snitch. He flew in circles over and over again, his vision blurry because of heavy drops of water. There was nobody else on the stadium, it was eerily quiet. The dream was continuing for what seemed like hours and hours. Finally, Harry spotted a snitch. His fingers closed on the flying golden ball.

He woke with a start. The room was bathed in light and Snape was nowhere to be seen. Following his routine, Harry checked on sleeping Clara and hopped into the shower. He closed the shower curtain and prepared to turn the water on, when he noticed he didn't even strip from his pajamas. He groaned in frustration. He started unbuttoning the top of his pajamas, when he heard the door open.

The house had two bathrooms, one at the first floor and one on the second. Harry always woke up before the children, so he had no need to shut the door. He was prepared to shout his presence, but something stopped him. He looked into the thin gap between the shower curtain and the wall and spotted Snape, fully dressed in trousers and white t-shirt. Snape's back was facing him, but he could see the man's face reflected in the mirror. The man used his wand to brush his teeth with a spell and then shave. His morning procedures were silent. The only sound was the water running.

Harry watched in fascination, hidden by the shower curtain. The man had an unattractive face. His nose was too large, his chin sharp, his lips were thin and his thick brows always appeared to be frowning. And yet, it brought Harry pleasure to watch the man tilt his face so and so, while shaving.

He felt like the worst kind of voyeur. And he knew what voyeur meant because of muggle magazines Dean used to share in their dorm. Snape might not have been attractive, but he moved with precision and grace, like a well-oiled machine. There was something sensual about him, that reminded Harry of dangerous animal. You couldn't help but admire him when he demonstrated a potion in a classroom. Even when Harry hated him, he found himself fascinated by the way Snape chopped and added ingredients to the cauldron.

Harry felt an unexpected flush creeping his cheeks and making his knees weak. Then Snape turned and Harry froze.

Snape was sporting a sizeable erection. Oh. _Oh_.

Harry felt own cock respond to the sight. He bit his hand, trying not to moan. God, what was wrong with him? The man rubbed himself, Harry's curious eyes never leaving his form. The boy watched as Snape petted his hard-on and then adjusted himself. The man sighed in pleasure and released a deep moan.

Harry's jaw went slack. Something heavy dropped into his stomach, traveling lower and lower still until he found himself going stiff and aching in a matter of seconds. A wave of deep sensuous yearning passed though him.

Snape was... He was...

But the man didn't continue touching himself. Instead he straightened his spine, checked his cuffs with practiced movement. His face grew solemn and he put his right palm over his eyes for a moment.

 _“_ Damn you,” he whispered, broken, and then exited the bathroom.

Harry rested his forehead on cool bathroom tiles. To think he was so obsessed with an innocent kiss Snape bestowed on him. This was not innocent. Not at all. He wanted to laugh. Or cry. He wanted to sink on his knees in front of the man and mouth him. His whole body thrummed with need feel. Harry moaned.

This was against everything Harry known about himself. Why then, did it make him feel so full with emotion, so alive. He felt strung up and charged with energy. The kind that melted bones and filled you with mindless want. He tossed his clothes on the bathroom floor and turned the shower on.

He took a hold of his needy prick and tugged. Little details and thoughts jumped to the forefront of his mind. The kind he didn't know he was storing until he was in the shower wanking. The glint in Snape's dark eyes. The tone of his voice, the soft lilt of it when Snape whispered. The man's tall dark figure. The wide spread of his shoulders.

He thought about Snape, so controlled that he almost appeared to be inhumane… Thought about him going stiff and aroused, and hard and leaking, wanting human touch… no, craving it in the most vulnerable way... Harry didn't even notice how he thrust his cock in his hand, moaning at the blazing intensity and pleasure. He came seeing white behind his eyelids.

Harry felt like he exited the bathroom a different person. He tried to avoid the man all morning, leaving the room when Snape would walk in, refusing to look the man in the eyes. He has never before in his life experienced attraction like this. Even when it wasn't sexual, it confused him with its intensity. And now... now he was drawn to the man who loved his mother.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Snape and his mom were childhood friends, they grew up together and shared moments he could never share with the man. He has never been jealous about it before, but now... Now, it only emphasized the chasm between how Snape felt towards Lily and how he viewed his son. This was hopeless. He couldn't possibly compare.

And he wouldn't try to prove himself, he decided. It was useless anyway. Snape loved his mother for possibly more than twenty years. No matter how hard Harry would try to get thе man's attention, his affections would always be with Lily. And Harry was nothing more than James's son in Snape's eyes. He prepared to greet the man coldly, after he composed himself from the morning outburst.

He found the man in the small bedroom, sitting over pink small table with Talitha. Harry crept closer to the door. Talitha made her fairy doll drink from a small toy teacup, then pretended to drink herself. She turned an expectant gaze toward Snape. The man looked resigned. He picked the little cup with a pinkie raised and drew it to his lips. He held the toy tea cup over his lips for a few seconds and then placed it on the table. Talitha's eyes lit up. She was speaking to the doll and after a while the strange ceremony repeated again.

Harry couldn't hold back a smile. The anger he felt drained from him, leaving only regret. He left the man and Talitha to play their game and busied himself with watching over Clara and cooking. After the heat of the day died down, Harry released Talitha and Abraxos to go to the playground and settled in the kitchen preparing tea for him and Severus.

As was their tradition, Snape entered the kitchen and sat down for tea. They made no small talk and Harry pushed some additional tea biscuits in the man's direction. He was tired from an entire day of watching over an infant and Clara was, thank God, sleeping peacefully in her cot upstairs. The orange light from the sunset cast the room in a lovely pink haze. It gave Snape's complexion a warm glow, his sharp features smoothed by some unnamed force.

Harry couldn't stop looking at the man. Snape noticed neither the biscuits nor Harry's intent gaze.

 

***

 

Damn it! A day later it occurred to Harry he was sharing a living space with a Legilimens. The complicated feelings he felt towards the man could be disclosed so easily if he didn't avoid all eye contact. Unfortunately, avoiding Snape gaze, led Harry to notice the man's broad shoulders, his long legs and beautiful hands. Every time the epiphany struck, he silently groaned in frustration.

Harry poured the cat food into the bows. The two cats, Mr. Tails and Mr. Chubbs were meowing and rubbing themselves against his feet. But the orange cat – Mr. Stubbins, was nowhere to be seen. How odd, Harry thought. It was the first time one of the cats didn't show for its feeding. Granted, he had not been paying as much attention to them as before, distracted by his thoughts about Snape.

Harry fed the cats and when searching for Mr. Stubbins. He checked the bedrooms and spaces under the beds, then the living room and the kitchen. Maybe the cat slipped out of the house? He was starting to worry. The cats were his responsibility too. They were very dear to Mrs. Figg. Harry often suspected squibs shared an unusual bond with cats. Filch and Mrs. Figg came to mind. He didn't want to be a reason why the woman lost her friend. He should have been looking after them!

He went to the yard at the back of the house and noticed the cat right away. Thankfully its bright color helped to spot it. The cat didn't move when Harry called it, only its fluffy orange tail jumped from side to side, to show that the creature was excited to see him. Harry came closer to look at what was wrong.

Mr. Stubbins whined piteously. A large rock, so heavy, the cat could barely move, was attached to its back. Immediately Harry knew who was at fault here. He murmured a “Finite Incantatem!” and the rock fell from the cat's back. Hesitantly, the cat raised itself from a lying position. When nothing was weighing it anymore it circled around Harry's legs in wonder. He took it in his arms and brought the cat into the house.

He met Severus in the hallway, who had stopped when he saw Harry.

 _“_ What's wrong?”

The emotions Harry was feeling probably showed on his face. He knew he should have kept a better look after the cats! They were not toys to have their limbs ripped apart, they were living creatures who felt pain. And he knew one person, who had difficulty understanding that.

 _“_ Abraxos!”

 _“_ What?” wafted from somewhere in the house.

 _“_ I need to see you immediately,” Harry said, his voice stern.

Severus's eyebrows rose. He folded his arms in front of his chest and waited, until the boy showed up. Abraxos entered a room and his gaze was instantly glued to the cat in Harry's arms.

 _“_ Do you know why I asked you here?” asked Harry. He didn't want to accuse the boy straight away, but Talitha didn't practice magic the way the boy did and he doubted it was Clara, who had glued the rock to the cat's back.

Abraxos shrugged. Harry felt his temper rising.

 _“_ I found Mr. Stubbins in the back yard. He had a rock so large, he couldn't even move, attached magically to his back,” Harry said angry. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

 _“_ It was just a prank,” the boy said.

 _“_ Living creatures are not your play toys to do as you wish, Mr. Mason,” injected Snape. He looked apprehensive.

Harry shot a grateful look at him.

 _“_ It's not like I killed it,” objected the boy.

 _“_ So you don't deny attaching the rock to the cat,” concluded Harry.

 _“_ Mr. Mason and I have been practicing sticking chams,” explained the older man.

Harry didn't want to blame Severus, but his anger spiked at the man.

 _“_ You're not to touch any of the cats, Abraxos,” said Harry. “As long as you live here, you're going to listen to the rules. What you did was wrong,” but Harry could tell the boy wasn't even listening to him anymore.

 _“_ I have a proposition to Mr. Mason,” spoke Severus. He threw Harry a cautionary look. “Do you remember that Tetris game you mentioned?” Harry looked in surprise at the man. Abraxos saw the game at Dudley's and would not stop talking about it. Harry didn't know Snape paid attention. “You want it still, I presume?”

 

 _“_ Yes!” exclaimed the young boy.

 

 _“_ Here's what we're going to do. I attach this rock” he took the rock Harry didn't know he brought from the yard; he then transfigured the rock to the bigger size, “to your back for, let's see, three days. And by the end of them you'll have the game. Harry will go and buy it for you,” Snap waved the wand and used a disillusionment charm on the rock.

Harry looked at the older man confused. Was this Snape's idea of punishment? But then why was he rewarding the boy? He tried to figure out what the man intended. He tried to catch Snape's eye. With this whole ordeal he completely forgot about his earlier concerns, that Snape would read his mind. He supposed he should have been grateful, because now he didn't feel like he was going to be found out at any moment.

 _“_ May I go?” asked Abraxos impatiently.

 _“_ All right,” Harry conceded.

He fed Mr. Stubbins and busied himself with household chores. He sensed for the first time, that Snape perhaps was avoiding him as well. Now, when he didn't make it his mission to exit the room every time he would come in, Harry noticed that every time they were together some business suddenly came up and Snape would leave. He was confused and a little hurt. Was this because Snape felt awkward about them sharing a bed? He didn't know what to think.

When the children came from the playground Harry noticed Abraxos was upset.

 _“_ It's the rock! It was too heavy for me to run after Charlie,” said the boy angry.

Harry looked at Severus. The man only lifted his eyebrows and turned the page of the newspaper he was reading. Reading that damn newspaper was the only thing Snape busied himself with, while Harry did all the work around the house. Usually, when the man would visit them he helped around with cooking and tidying up. While he did tidy, when Harry wasn't in the room, the man refused to visit the kitchen, while Harry was working. He did however come for tea, but made no effort to talk. It was the second day of this awkward distance and Harry didn't know what went wrong.

When they were alone again Harry stood in the doorway to prevent the man from leaving.

 _“_ That rock is heavy you know,” he said cautiously. “I know you're trying to teach him something, but that rock is half his weight. I want you to remove it, before he hurts his back.”

 _“_ I will do no such thing,” Snape didn't move from the place he was sitting, but he folded the paper on his lap. “Mr. Potter, I've been dealing with little brats like you and Mr. Mason half of my entire life. You will need trust me on this.”

No matter what the man had said Harry was worried. Sure, the boy had a sadistic streak, but no permanent harm came over the cat. Harry was still angry at Abraxos for placing the rock with sticking charm on the animal, but he didn't want the boy to suffer for it. Harry considered what Snape was trying to teach the little boy. He was the one who taught the sticking charm to the boy in the first place. Snape probably felt responsible. It was also true, that the boy of his powers needed to learn not to use his strength to hurt others. But that was easier said than done. Harry was never a bully, but he knew his father was. And he changed, didn't he? Perhaps Abraxos could grow out of it too.

Going to bed that day was less awkward. Harry still felt uncomfortable with lying next to half-naked Snape, but he trusted himself not to attempt anything. Even if he wanted to. The bedcovers now smelled of the man and he found the scent comforting. Every morning when he woke up Snape would already be up, so they never woke up in a compromising position. Well, maybe they did drift towards each other at night, Harry certainly longed to be close to the man, but every time he woke up he was alone.

Abraxos and Severus entered some kind of silent agreement with ignoring the rock. Harry wanted to get the thing off the boy for a night, but Severus refused to do it. He claimed that their terms were stated as three days and the nights were no exception.

It surprised him the next day to find Abraxos sitting in corner of little bedroom silently. The boy sat with his face to the corner, with his back to the door. He didn't move and Harry noticed no toys were present. The boy preferred to practice his magic on the toys he'd had. Harry called the boy, but he didn't react to his voice. Harry approached the kid.

 _“_ Abraxos,” Harry repeated.

Harry circled the boy. The boy’s face was streaked with tears even though he wasn't crying anymore. He had a very serious expression on his face, the one Harry hadn't seen on him before. He almost looked reflective.

 _“_ I'm sorry for hurting Mr. Stubbins and others,” said the boy quietly.

 _“_ Others?” Harry inquired.

 _“_ The bird in the yard, and Ms. Young’s Salamandras, and the mice and birds at home,” listed the boy.

 _“_ All right,” said Harry equally quietly.

 _“_ Could you,” the boy sniffed. “Could you take of the rock?”

 _“_ Of course,” Harry waved the wand and the rock tumbled uselessly on the bed. The boy sighed in relief and moved his shoulders in wonder.

 _“_ I don't care if I won't get the game,” the boy said bravely. He looked at Harry suspiciously. “You won't do to me what I've done to the mice at home, will you?”

 _“_ I won't,” assured him Harry. He didn't really want to think about what Abraxos did to the poor animals. “Hurting living creatures is wrong, no matter what they do,” he said softly. “Causing pain is cruel, Abraxos.”

He expected the boy to deny it, but he simply nodded. He wiped at his face with his small hands, removing the tear stains. He appeared deep in thought. Harry tugged the boy gently in his arms and hugged him. The boy sniffed again.

 _“_ I think... I think cruelty is wrong,” he said and looked at Harry for confirmation.

 _“_ Yes,” Harry hugged the boy tighter.

The boy made a face at him and jumped from the bed. Now, that the rock wasn't weighting his movements he was no longer slow and apathetic. He jumped from one foot to the other and turned to Harry. He smiled mischievously. For a moment Harry wondered if the boy’s remorse was genuine. He chased off these thoughts.

 _“_ I'll tell Severus your agreement is over.”

Abraxos nodded and ran out of the room. Harry banished the rock and set out to look for Severus. Harry located the man in the back yard, sitting in the chair he probably took from the kitchen and reading a paper. Harry smiled. He told the man of his encounter with the little boy. Snape didn't appear surprised, but a satisfied expression crossed his features. He looked good, Harry had noticed. The dark circles almost disappeared from under his eyes. It seemed that these couple of days had a healing influence on his physique.

 _“_ You couldn't possibly know it would work,” Harry said, still unsure how he felt about Snape's teaching methods.

 _“_ If it wouldn't there are other ways of disciplining a child.”

 _“_ Like detentions?” Harry asked skeptically.

 _“_ Well, if the child is not beyond help, they should at least learn to follow the rules,” Snape answered. He was looking at Harry and that was a welcome change from them dancing around each other, keeping distance.

 _“_ Detentions never did any good for me,” he said smiling. He almost forgot how comforting it was to be close to the man. Now, since he got his emotions and fears under control, he could be back to enjoying their more intimate moments.

 _“_ I remember,” Snape's deep voice carried over Harry's skin like a gentle touch. “You've no respect for authority.”

 _“_ I've had very few good authority figures in my life,” Harry leaned on the wall and narrowed his eyes at Snape.

 _“_ Perhaps, but your casual disregard towards rules,” the boy rolled his eyes at this remark, “will have to end sometime. The adult world, even Magical, lives by laws and regulations. You will need to adapt to them, Potter.”

 _“_ Maybe you're right,” conceded Harry.

 _“_ I imagine it is difficult for you dealing with Mr. Mason,” Snape said. He appeared thoughtful. “You were a rash, insolent, self-absorbed child, but you were never cruel.” Snape's expression turned soft. “No, never cruel. Unlike your father.”

Harry let the jab towards his parent go. “I don't really understand it. The desire to hurt someone.”

 _“_ Don't pretend to be innocent. You've sliced Draco into ribbons in your sixth year. That was an attempt at murder.”

Harry bristled at the accusation, but most of all at the use of Mafoy's first name. Sure, Abaxos and he were Mr. Mason and Mr. Potter, but Malfoy was Draco for Snape. It figured. The second boy who Snape did everything in his power to protect, even against his wishes. Harry felt childish resentment towards Draco, spiked by jealousy.

 _“_ You weren't even awfully sorry for what you did to him, were you?” continued Snape, his eyes now boring into the boy.

 _“_ I didn't even know what that spell did. It was in _your_ book, Severus, marked for enemies,” Harry looked out into the garden. If it were not for a coincidence of Snape being at the Moaning Myrtle's bathroom at the right moment, he would have blood on his hands. No, at the time he wasn't as sorry, as he should have been at almost attempting to kill a student. “God, you're right. It could have been a disaster,” Harry moaned. “I've only got detentions for attempted murder, just like my godfather before me...” he looked at Snape regretfully. “No wonder you loathe me.”

Snape's eyes betrayed his surprise. “I don't.” he said softly. “The graveness of your actions downed on you, I see.”

 _“_ When Malfoy attempted Crucio on me, I've reacted. Before, I've never had any doubts in Half-Blood Prince...”

 _“_ It was used in self-defense?” questioned the older man. His expression was doubtful.

 _“_ Yes,” confirmed Harry. “I suppose I caught Malfoy at a bad time.”

 _“_ I see.”

 _“_ I'm surprised he didn't visit you in the hospital,” Harry said. Snape simply shrugged.

 

***

 

Harry had promised Snape they would go after his things, so he arranged a second meeting with Dursleys. It was only for short period of time and he crossed his fingers, hoping the kids won't bring unnecessary trouble. He called Dudley by the phone to agree on everything in advance. He still remembered the number. Funny that. He dropped the kids off to the Dursleys, with Abraxos in the best mood out of three of them.

The little boy had been playing with muggle children and even making some friends. Harry was quite happy to learn he didn’t stay on the sidelines anymore. He would gladly prove to him the  muggle world was full of wonderful inventions and muggles were equally charming and witty as wizards. Hopefully, these past few weeks showed Abraxos a glimpse of muggle world, that would help him let go of his prejudice.

When he came back from Dursleys he found Snape pacing in front of the house. The man looked eager to leave.

 _“_ I'm sorry you can't do this on your own. Kingsley told me to watch you constantly,” Harry wasn't worried Snape would flee, but watching over him would also let him make sure that no remaining Death Eaters would try to hurt the man.

 _“_ I understand Potter,” the man dismissed him.

 _“_ Where are we going then? To Hogwarts?” Harry asked. He noticed Snape wasn't wearing his robes.

 _“_ No, we're not going to Hogwarts,” the man said. He extended a hand and Harry took it. Snape's hand felt cool and steady. Snape led him into the house and pressed his body close. Harry tried very hard not to blush, but he could feel his cheeks burning. There was a stirring in his nether regions also. It felt like his body had suddenly woken up after a long slumber, and his hormones decided this was the perfect time to let themselves be known.

He felt Snape's thumb stroking his hand and the man's eyes were both soft and filled with longing. Harry sensed the familiar wave of warmth and safety envelop him. Snape apparated them the next moment. Harry struggled to breathe. He quickly got his lungs under control and looked around himself. Snape stepped away from him almost immediately. Harry felt the loss keenly.

They were standing at the end of cobbled narrow street. The place looked completely abandoned. The streets were empty, the brick houses lifeless. Snape turned to walk in brusque pace and Harry followed him. He looked around in surprise – even the streetlamps were broken.

They stopped in front of an old house. It looked no different than others and after a couple of movements of Snape's wand the door opened and let them in. They've stepped right into a small room lined with books at all four corners.

 _“_ You lived here?” Harry had gotten a glimpse of the house in Snape's memory. But seeing it in person was a different experience.

 _“_ Not all of are born into Suburban Luxury Mr. Potter,” said Snape. His voice was cold and his shoulders tense. His back was ramrod straight.

 _“_ I'm well aware,” said Harry softly.

 _“_ We shouldn't linger. Only very few Death Eaters know of location of this house, but it isn't wise to stay.”

 _“_ All right,” Harry sat gingerly on a sofa. “I'm going to wait you here.” He picked the Daily Prophet from the stack that was near to him and started reading. The Prophet he picked was full of bogus crap. It became apparent to Harry, Snape must have visited his house after the fall of the Ministry, because the newspaper had articles about muggles stealing magic from wizards.

Morbidly curious he read couple of them. The claims they've made were preposterous. He could feel Umbridge's influence all over them. It didn't take long before he got too frustrated and angry with the material. He couldn't fathom who would be interested in this paper waste. But, knowing what he did about people and his run-ins with Skeeter, he was sure some believed this utter nonsense.

He quit the reading and looked around the room instead. The walls, lined with heavy tomes betrayed a passionate reader. He smiled. He always imagined The Half-Blood Prince to be somewhat of a bookworm. Many times he thought about other books, vandalized in the same manner as his Potions text.

And look at that. The adult Prince has surrounded himself with books. The room was nested in them in a protective embrace. The fact warmed his heart immensely. He looked on as Snape finally stepped down from a secret door behind a bookshelf and went about putting books from the shelves in a black muggle plastic bag. The books disappeared in the bag, but the bag didn't look any bigger with them. Snape must have charmed it with a wizarding space.

 _“_ I've gathered all the necessary items. We may leave,” Snape said calmly.

 _“_ Lead the way,” Harry jumped from his seat and followed the older man.

Before they've apparated again, Harry paused.

 _“_ Would you mind if I transport us this time? I want to stop by the grocery store and buy the children some ice-cream.”

Snape sighed. “Any children you have you'll spoil ruthlessly, Potter”

 _“_ I'll just try to find a partner who'll balance me, like you do,” Harry said boldly. Was he flirting?

The corners of Snape's mouth turned down.

 _“_ I'm sure you'll find plenty of volunteers,” the man said tonelessly.

Right. So much for his attempt at flirting.

They detoured to the store as Harry wanted and he picked the ice-cream. Snape eyed the whiskey bottles and Harry asked which one Snape would prefer. After all, the man could hardly pay for himself now. The man shut down instantly and Harry was forced to choose on his own. He picked the bottle that resembled the one Snape has picked before.

They went right to the Dursleys as they apparated back. Snape has refused to follow him. Maybe he didn't want to get reacquainted with his aunt? When Harry finally got there, aunt Petunia eyed the whiskey bottle in his bag disapprovingly. Harry rolled his eyes. It's not like his uncle didn't enjoy a glass or two after his work. Not to mention all of the times he saw his aunt sneaking a glass after Dudley's school meeting.

They walked back with the kids arguing about something and Clara looking at Harry from her pram. Snape joined them halfway through, greeting the kids with a nod. Harry looked at Clara. She behaved herself today with Dursleys and he felt like she deserved a reward. Could he maybe give her some ice-cream later? Not too much to upset her stomach, but just a little.

Harry sighed. He didn't even have anyone he could consult with such a problem. Sending a Patronus to Mrs. Weasley about it seemed silly. He looked up from the pram and noticed an owl perched on their doorstep. His hands were busy and he asked Snape to take the letter from the owl.

 _“_ It's from Ms. Granger,” Snape said, shooing the owl.

Harry released his hold on a pram and took the letter.

 _“_ I wonder what it's about,” Harry said opening the envelope, “Oh! She writes that the Orphanage is ready to take the children back. The renovations are finished. She and Ron saw the building and it looked magnificent. They're still helping at Hogwarts. We should travel to Mould-on-the-Wold as soon as we're ready.” Harry looked up from his reading. “Well, Abraxos and Talitha, are you ready for your new adventure?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you like the story!


	4. Chapter 4

Abraxos took the news well, but Talitha's eyes were watering. She looked upset, her face reddening rapidly. As soon as they opened the door, she sprinted toward the small bedroom. Harry looked after her his heart sinking. He had grown attached to the three of them this past month, especially Clara. Even though his mind was full of speculations of how he could keep the children, he knew he couldn't do that. The kids needed a real family and he wasn't ready for such responsibility.

 _“_ I'd better go and talk to her,” Harry said quietly. Snape nodded.

Harry went up the stairs. He stepped into the room. The room was a bit of a mess with magical toys lying all around. Harry made a mental note to get to packing them soon. Talitha was lying on her bed, her shoulders shaking. She was obviously crying. Harry cringed; he always had trouble with engaging someone empathetically.

He sat beside the bed and touched the girl's shoulder.

 _“_ What happened darling? Are you scared to go back to the Orphanage?”

The girl shook her head. She looked up from her pillow, her lashes wet and whispered:

 _“_ I don't want to go back.”

Harry looked at her alarmed.

 _“_ Why? Do they mistreat you there?” he asked, frowning.

She shook her head again.

 _“_ What if no one ever wants us?” she cried.

 _“_ Oh, darling. You're lovely children. I'm sure you'll be adopted in no time,” Harry moved to stroke the girl's hair.

 _“_ But The Dark Lord lost. Who'll want us now?”

 _“_ You're just children, Talitha. Nobody would blame a child for their parent's choices.” Harry reassured. “Look, I don't know the people who'll decide to adopt you, but I'm sure they won't care who your parents were. They'll want you for you,” Harry reached for the girl to give her a hug.

When he went downstairs couple of minutes later he felt like a ball of snakes were churning in his stomach. He didn't really have a good luck with adoption. Aunt Petunia barely tolerated him, but that may have been because adopting him was never her free choice. Surely anyone who wanted to raise a child wouldn't care if their parents were monsters? Such information was better kept secret. In fact, Harry wasn't sure if it wasn't.

Could he really let go of the children now, not knowing what will happen to them? Harry worried his bottom lip. He found Abraxos, Clara and Severus in the kitchen. Snape whispered something to the boy and the child nodded and ran out of the room. Harry was distraught. These circumstances triggered a strong response from him, and he wasn't sure he could let go of the children knowing they might not find a home. He wasn't sure he could let go of them knowing that they would.

 _“_ You shouldn't have taken them, Potter,” shook his head the older man. He waved his wand erecting Silencing charms. He was watching the younger man closely.

 _“_ I know,” said Harry solemnly. He didn't regret knowing them or taking them in. But the thought of letting them go from under his care... It scared him, even though it was perfectly safe.

 _“_ Why did you?” Snape moved a chair in his direction. Harry took a seat and leaned on the table. He buried his head in his hands. Out of corner of his eyes he noticed Snape's hand move, like a startled bird, as if the man wanted to touch him. He folded the hand in a fist instead.

 _“_ That seemed the right thing to do at the time,” Harry responded. “And now they've grown attached.”

 _“_ Don't flatter yourself, Potter,” Snape sneered, but his eyes were not unkind. “Masons are not the ones grown over attached.”

Harry folded in on himself. Trust Snape to see right at the heart of the matter. The children grounded him, gave him a purpose he lacked these past months, when he felt lost and adrift. He felt needed again, important to these three small humans.

He tried to pretend Snape hasn't hit the mark. “What? Me? I'm alright Snape.”

The man simply stared at him silently. His eyes traveled up and down Harry's face expectantly, his posture relaxed. Snape was confronting him, but not in aggressive manner. Harry let himself relax. He considered telling Snape the truth.

 _“_ I...” Harry stumbled over the rest of the sentence. He forced himself to continue. “It's just so hard to know they're orphans...”

 _“_ Exactly like you were,” commented the man.

 _“_ I suppose.”

Snape sighed. He brushed his hand through his hair, mulling on something. Then his penetrating gaze rested on Harry. They were so different in temperament, Harry thought. And yet no one made him feel as safe as Snape did. Not for the first time Harry found it was easier to confront the jagged edges of his personality in Snape's presence.

 _“_ I've warned you once about wearing your heart on your sleeve,” Snape said in a gentle voice.

 _“_ I remember,” Harry smiled bitterly.

His gaze traveled to Clara sitting in a pram. She looked sleepy, but was observing two men curiously. Harry reached and let her grasp him by fingers. She mumbled something unintelligible. He wondered why Petunia, faced with the child that was not her own, never felt this rush of affection towards him, like the one he felt every time he looked at Clara. Snape was watching them interact.

He shook his head disapprovingly. “Yet you do it still.”

 _“_ This is who I am, Severus,” Harry turned to look at the man.

Snape sighed tiredly. “I didn't give you the permission to call me by my name.”

It wasn't the first time Harry called the man by his name. Part of him was surprised Snape didn't hex him the first time it happened. No matter what the man said, he tolerated Harry's use of his first name, his long looks and lingering touches.

 _“_ What are you going to do? Forbid me from calling you Severus?” teased Harry. “Severus” he repeated amused, “Severus.”

Snape stood up abruptly. Harry followed him confused. “What...?”

The man used his body to promptly back Harry into the wall. He had a wand in his hand. His expression was twisted in a smirk. But it wasn't cruel. The man almost seemed... playfull, Harry thought. Harry stomach was pleasantly warm from their proximity.

 _“_ You'll live to regret your insolence, Mr. Potter.” Snape deep voice caressed Harry's skin, along with the man's dark magic.

 _“_ All bark, no bite.” Harry whispered leaning into the man.

He was staring Snape right in the eyes. A rush of lust was singing an unnamed ancient song in his blood. He wanted to shove the man roughly and see what he would do. He wanted to bite his jaw, to know what his kiss tasted like, to bury his nose on Snape's neck.

He felt a stronger caress of the older man's magic. Something changed in Snape's eyes. He stepped away from Harry and his lips twisted in an ironic smirk. Harry looked at him in confusion.

The man turned and left the room.

Harry felt left high and dry.

He exhaled a shaky breath. He only wanted to tease the man, but why then, he was the one who felt like a joke? He looked at Clara for support.

 _“_ Frustrating prick.”

The baby said something indiscernible, shaking her hands, appearing delighted.

Clara wasn't the only one who seemed delighted at something. While Harry unpacked the tub of ice cream, he was met with Abraxos who dissolved in a fit of giggles when he saw him. Harry thought it odd. He called the children for an ice-cream break and was met with Talitha who erupted into laughter, when she entered the kitchen.

Harry called Severus and the man appeared in the room, ignored the ice cream and settled in the corner with his tea. Harry took a large bite from his portion and smiled. It was chocolate chip chocolate ice cream. Hogwarts didn't pamper him with such treats and he was happy he could simply buy it on his own. He was so enthusiastic he got some on his nose. He wiped it with his hand.

 _“_ Oh my God,” groaned Talitha as she buried her head beneath the table.

She and Abraxos were laughing uncontrollably. Harry frowned. He looked at his hands and then his attire. Was something wrong with him? Why were the kids laughing? He looked at Snape in the corner. The man's expression was stony, but his eyes were shining brightly.

 _“_ What is going _on_ ,” the last word came out with an oink.

Harry covered his mouth. He looked around himself in embarrassment. He tried to say something, but out came a second oink. Abraxos was crying with laughter. Snape has covered his mouth a hand. His shoulders quivered.

Harry rushed to the nearest window at the corridor. He looked at the mirror. It place of his nose he sported a middle sized pig snout. Snape! The caress of magic he felt from the man in an earlier confrontation, he must have charmed his nose! That bastard!

Sure enough a shadow appeared behind him in the mirror. Snape's face materialized behind his own. The corners of his lips were turned up. The man was smiling. Harry looked at him, angry. Unfortunately the pissed expression looked even more amusing with a snout he was wearing.

 _“_ All bark and no bite, Mis-ter Potter?” he asked his voice mocking.

 _“_ Oh, sod off,” Harry groaned.

He pulled out his wand and concentrated hard on saying “Finite Incantatem!” without oinking. He got it on his third try. Nothing happened. Harry repeated the words, now more loudly. He was frustrated and it caused him to oink. Snape was watching the whole ordeal with his hands crossed, looking deeply pleased. On a fourth try his Finite was perfect, but the spell didn't work.

 _“_ What *oink* did you do to me? Take the spell off!”

 _“_ And deprive myself the pleasure seeing the great Harry Potter be an amusement for the crowd? No, I don't think so,” said the man. His voice gotten deeper. Harry sensed this was how the man sounded when he was happy with something.

 _“_ What crowd? You don't suggest I show myself to muggles this way, Snape?” he gasped horrified. “You'll need to take the charm off before I go outside!”

 _“_ Perhaps. But it is not a pressing matter at the moment,” and with that he left Harry to his own devices.

Harry had been angry for about ten minutes, but then he caught his reflection in toster and snorted. He really did look funny. Eventually, Snape would have to take the charm off. Besides, the children were amused and he could laugh at himself. He imagined what would happen in the past if he was traipsing with a pig snout at Hogwarts. He would probably be mortified.

But the past year had changed something in him. He could laugh at himself before, but now getting embarrassed over petty things seemed especially silly. His pride could take it. He wore his new nose proudly, not looking to spite Snape, but he wouldn't mind if he did. The children calmed down slightly and Harry tried not to provoke them by oinking. Unfortunately, whenever he felt strong emotion his nose would come alive in a fit of snorting.

By the end of the day he stopped noticing the thing altogether. He settled with Clara after a bath. She was sleepy and looked at him with her impossible blue eyes. Harry had a feeling he was forgetting something. He searched in his memory and sure enough he remembered he wanted to give the baby a taste of the sweet.

He conjured a spoon with tub of ice cream from the kitchen and opened the treat.

 _“_ One spoon,” he told Clara.

The baby's face went slack from shock when she tasted the ice cream. She yelped in delight her little feet kicking madly. Harry laughed, which caused him to oink. Clara reacted by smiling and reaching for his face.

He leaned low for her and she grabbed his pink nose by both hands. She gurgled something and Harry tried to oink at her, on purpose this time. She dissolved in a fit of giggles and Harry oinked at her again. She appeared delighted even more.

Happiness bubbled from Harry's stomach. Giggling back, Harry backed down from her hands and swung back oinking madly. Clara rejoiced. He did it again.

 _“_ It appears you've found your vocation,” a deep voice said.

Harry turned, sprawled on his stomach on a bed with an infant in his hands. Snape stood in the doorway. He was holding a book in his hands, his sleeves rolled up, but not high enough for Harry to see the mark, the top buttons of his shirt undone. He looked relaxed.

 _“_ Maybe I have,” said Harry without malice.

 _“_ Your father would be furious with me for making a joke out of him,” the man face twisted for a moment with a memory.

“M’not my father.”

Snape said nothing. His face softened as he observed them. Harry took Clara's spoon and dipped it in the ice cream unselfconsciously. He managed a couple of bites, before Snape rolled his eyes.

 _“_ Never pegged you for a sweet tooth.”

 _“_ M'not. It's just really good ice-cream. You should try it.”

A wave of magic washed over him. He checked his nose. The pig snout was gone. He breathed in a sigh of relief. They've settled the baby in the crib and started preparing for the bed. Harry watched as Snape exited the bathroom in a gray worn out nightgown. He didn't comment on it, but secretly he was glad the man was clothed now. One could only bear so much views of the wide pale shoulders Snape had, before... before trouble.

Whether Harry wanted to or not he would have to say goodbye to the children, to Clara. He wracked his brain trying to come up with something special they could do on their last day together. He lay there thinking, with Severus in bed next to him. He turned to face the man, but Snape lay staring at the opposite wall, his back to Harry.

He was so grateful for the company. Sleeping alone was never a problem, but now that he had Snape as a company he preferred it to a lonely bed. The older man's presence was soothing. If only he didn't long for a closer touch, to be able to reach the man and settle in his arms. It was silly, really. He didn't know what it was like to be held by Severus. Why did it feel then that he was missing something important?

He fell asleep not having decided about what to do with the kids. However, when he woke up next day (alone, as usual) the answer came to him on its own. They would go to the cinema. Harry wasn't sure how they'd manage to watch the movie with an infant, but he decided he would figure it out.

He'd never been to see a film. Dursleys never took him with them before. He needed to pick the place and time. He busied himself doing just that, when the cinema was picked he announced it to the children and Severus.

 _“_ What's a cinema?” asked Talitha.

 _“_ It's a place where you can watch programs, like your cartoons. Only bigger,” Harry explained.

 _“_ Why'd need them bigger?” asked Abraxos.

 _“_ It's more fun that way,” Harry didn't think telling the kid about the overall immersion would be a wise choice.

 _“_ Muggles,” muttered the boy.

 _“_ Stop that,” hissed the girl.

She had taken to chiding Abraxos every time he expressed an anti-muggle sentiment. She rolled her eyes, told him to stop or threw toys at him. Harry understood it, maybe a little too well. Talitha was afraid they were not going to be adopted if they showed their prejudice. She probably came to a conclusion the views her parents held would prevent her and Abraxos from fitting into the current Wizarding World. Harry also held foolish hope, that playing with other muggle children taught her tolerance. Unlike her brother, she showed no contempt towards them.

Harry had to ring a muggle taxi to take them to the cinema. When they arrived Snape took Harry's wallet and disappeared into the crowd. He had returned with four tickets to the animated film Harry had picked. Harry's was grateful; his hands were busy holding Clara. He noticed the popcorn and the drinks and asked Severus to buy each of them a bowl and a drink. Snape made a face.

 _“_ Must you be such a commoner?”

 _“_ This is my first time and I'm having a proper cinema experience,” Harry said stubbornly.

Snape looked at him surprised. “The Golden Boy never been to see a film?” he asked dubiously. “You've lived with muggles, didn't you?”

It was Harry's turn to make a face. “Never call me that. And to answer your question – no, I've never had the opportunity.”

Snape's gaze lingered on Harry's face for a moment. Wordlessly he carried over to the bar and bought everyone except himself popcorn and coke. The film itself was fun, if it weren't for oddness of Clara sleeping peacefully through an entire thing. She woke up just when the session ended and Harry noticed Snape hiding his wand in his jacket. He narrowed his eyes.

 _“_ Have you put her to sleep?” he asked accusingly.

 _“_ No idea what you're on about, Potter.”

The rest of the day got even better or worse, if you were Snape. They exited the movie and went to a building next to it, a famous fast food restaurant. Between this and feeding the children ice cream Harry was glad the children were not staying with him permanently, for he would surely turn them into mini whales. Snape scoffed at the surroundings. Composed and dressed in dark colors he looked out of place under fluorescent lights among bright color scheme of the place. He opened a menu and raised a brow.

 _“_ This establishment screams about your poor eating habbits, Potter.”

 _“_ Actually, I've never been here either,” said Harry excited, “I've always wanted to! Dursleys never wanted to take me with them, when I lived in the cupboard. And after, Dudley went on his diet and they didn't order food anymore or go to places like this. It was all about the grapefruit and salad after that,” he chatted.

 

 _“_ Excuse me?” asked Snape. His eyes norrowed into slits.

 _“_ Mm?” Harry turned his gaze from the menu and looked at the man.

 _“_ Surely you jest Mis-ter Potter.”

 _“_ No, really, I've never been,” said Harry obliviously.

 _“_ No not that part,” dismissed him the man with wave of hand. “Did you mean to say you lived in a cupboard?”

Abraxos and Clara looked at him in unison. Harry felt an uncomfortable feeling seize his stomach. He couldn't meet their eyes or look at Snape for that matter. Ron and Hermione knew all about his past and he'd never had to watch his tongue around them. Neither did he feel this choking sense of embarrassment when he spoke to them about it. Harry suddenly felt like he was five, unable to fit in with the well cared for, carefree children.

 _“_ Well, sort of,” he finally said. “I lived under in the cupboard under the stairs, until Dursleys got spooked and assigned me my own bedroom,” he didn't mention they put bars on windows and all but starved him afterward.

 _“_ A cupboard,” Snape repeated. His expression grew stony, his eyes burning. He seemed both anguished and angry, his lips thin enough to disappear altogether.

Harry was perplexed by Snape's reaction. Surely Snape had seen him in cupboard when they were doing Occlumency. He was positive couple of memories indicated he lived there? Had the man thought he was simply playing there? He looked at him closely. Snape still had a menu in his hands. His knuckles had gone white from holding it too tight. He would glance from time to time at Harry, almost like he couldn't help himself. Couple of times he looked at the brink of saying something, but decided against it.

They were interrupted by the waitress, a short chubby girl with ponytail. The kids looked relieved at her arrival, dispelling the tense silence at the table. Harry smiled at the girl, hoping the kids and Snape wouldn't be rude to the staff. To his surprise the older man didn't express his distaste with the menu or the place and simply made an order. The lunch passed pleasantly – Harry was high on carbs and fat from the food and even Snape seemed to be enjoying his meal.

Harry knew Severus didn't come from money, but he certainly acted like he was having dinner at much better place. He patiently cut all his food into little square pieces, much like he did at home and consumed the food that way. His movements were elegant and precise. He ate very little at home and he didn't finish the lunch here either. Harry looked at his plate sadly, he suspected the man had problems with his appetite. No wonder he was so skinny.

The kids however, were very enthusiastic about food. Talitha loved the chips and Harry ordered some to go. Although something was nagging at Harry. Something unsettled him about bringing the children to the cinema and here. He couldn't quite place his feelings on the matter. Eventually the lunch was finished and they went home.

Harry's distress grew as the day progressed. He was reluctant to let go of the Clara, since they arrived home and was holding her close. He looked at her blue eyes and couldn't bring himself to settle her in her basket and busy himself with housework. She was a solid warm presence distracting him from a sense of loss at the impending parting from the children.

Snape noticed it of course. How could the man not? The man was a spy after all. Harry sometimes felt transparent beside him. He wasn't sure he disliked the feeling, but there were some things he still wanted to keep secret. Like his growing attraction to the man.

 _“_ I don't remember attaching Ms. Mason to you with a sticking charm, Potter. And yet the evidence points to the contrary.”

Harry winced. “It's the last day I get to spend with them,” he cradled the infant in his arms.

Snape's gaze softened. “I've warned you about this”

 _“_ You were right,” Harry said his eyes burning. He tried not to let his emotions show. He knew what it was of course. Being needed. Being dedicated to something that filled him with determination and erased all doubts. Feeling responsible for something important, something he cared about. It gave his life a purpose, prevented him from feeling lost. But kids couldn't be used as a distraction, when someone didn't know what to do with their life. He blinked the tears away. “Somehow I don't think I would be the same after letting them go.”

And he wouldn't be. Harry felt like he needed this experience. To show him he wasn't like the Dursleys and it was not necessary for him to to be treated with such neglect, just because he was adopted. To show him what a family could be like, if he ever wanted his own. To know for certain he wasn't ready for that responsibility yet.

 _“_ Perhaps it is for the best,” Snape said.

 _“_ Maybe,” he placed Clara in her basket, when something crossed his mind. “Wait. How would we travel to the village? We can't apparate with three children!”

The older man got a haircomb out of his pocket and placed it on the table. He looked at Harry, clearly pleased with himself.

 _“_ Um... do you want me to brush them for you?” Harry gestured at Snape's hair.

 _“_ What? No, you dolt,” the man snatched the haircomb back and all but shoved it in the young man's face. “I'm charming a portkey for travelling there.”

 _“_ Can you really do that? We've never learned to in school.”

 _“_ It's a tricky process and requires a lot of very precise magic, but it's not intercontinental travel, I'll be able to finish it in couple of hours,” Snape said turning the comb in his fingers. “The magic required to make a portkey is not taught in Hogwarts, most portkeys are made in advance by the Ministry. Of course portkeys for short distance can be charmed by any adult wizard, but why would they need to be, when apparition is much quicker?”

 _“_ Right,” Harry marvelled at Snape's lecturing voice. It reminded him of Hogwarts. “Thank you, by the way, for helping me with kids.” He couldn't believe that only a month passed. “I'll need to pack the children and get my own things in order. But I couldn't have done this without you.”

 _“_ You've managed just fine the week I was absent.”

 _“_ Yeah, right. Almost got shocked into another dimension by a stove,” Harry laughed. “Here, I have a burn to prove it,” he turned his palm up for the man to see. Snape took him by the hand to look closer at his burn. Harry was startled by how much the casual touch pleased him.

 _“_ Another run-in with a danger?” the man appeared thoughtful.

 _“_ If you can call bad electricity that.”

 _“_ Hm...”

 _“_ Well, better start packing,” Harry kissed Clara on the forehead. He had a lot to do.

When the time came Snape's portkey was indeed ready. They've all huddled together touching the comb and it transported them with an unexpected jolt at precisely ten thirty. Clara was crying by the time they landed and it took Harry a couple of minutes to settle her in his arms.

The Mould-on-the-Wold turned out to be a small village, with white brick houses and rose gardens around them. It looked quite idyllic and Harry's worry subsided a little. Although both Abraxos and Talitha were unusually quiet this morning, Harry didn't blame them. They haven't been in the Ms. Pearl's Orphanage for long, when they were booted again and they haven't had the opportunity to settle.

They've approached another white building, much bigger than what they've encountered. Harry opened the gate and one by one they've crossed into the garden. It was quite a lovely place and it didn't look like it had been renovated recently. He half expected to see bricks lying around – signs of an open construction, but there were none.

Harry knew that Ms. Pearl's Orphanage was the only one in Magical Britain. They've accepted only children from magical families. It was relatively new place, only erected about twenty years ago, during the first Wizarding War. Before, the orphaned children would usually stay with the relatives, but the war sometimes killed entire families, leaving the children without close relatives. He wondered briefly, if things would have been different, if Voldemort was raised in place like this.

Harry used an old iron door knocker in the shape of a Kraken and its tentacles came alive under his fingers, caressing him gently. He shivered. There was someone yelling behind the door and loud sound of steps approaching. Harry and Snape exchanged a glance.

 _“_ Good morning, gentlemen,” woman, not older than Severus greeted them. “How may I help you?”

Harry's mind went blank. He felt Abraxos's shoulder with his hip and Clara was heavy in his arms. He suddenly wanted to leave the place with them and not to return. He chided himself for such thoughts.

 _“_ Hello. We've arrived with children placed under the care of Mr. Potter,” said Snape, when it was apparent Harry wasn't going to say anything. “There are three of them as you see. They're the children of Janus Mason. We've been told the reconstructions have been finished and the Orphanage is ready to admit the children.”

 _“_ Harry Potter!” it was as if nothing else Snape said registered with a woman. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “We owe so much to you for ending that bastard!”

 _“_ Right,” Harry said finding his words. “Thank you.”

 _“_ You are so young, my dear. I've seen you in papers, but it's so different to look at you in person.”

Snape threw Harry an unpleasant look. The woman, however, continued.

 _“_ It's been awful since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returned. The constant Ministry visits. The list of half-bloods and muggle-borns. They've tried to make us pass the children into the muggle orphanages. My brother works in the Ministry and he's a pureblood wizard, but they've put him under Imperius when he's challenged them!” she was shaking her head. Harry noticed she had a cane. “And every week there was a new child without their parents at our door. What times, what times!”

The woman blinked as if just noticing the children. She conjured a parchment. “Let's see, Mason, you've said? Oh, yes! There are three. Abraxos, Talitha and... Clara!” she smiled at the children. “Come, come inside, we'll get you settled in no time. The new wing can hold twice as much children, as before. The money is tight, but there are so many who wish to adopt the children orphaned by the war. We've had so many visitors, but unfortunately we were closed!”

Snape looked at Harry. “A moment, if you please.”

 _“_ Yes, of course. Take your time.”

Snape led them away from the door. “It's time to say goodbye, Harry.” Harry nodded.

Abraxos turned to Snape. “It was good to know you, sir,” he shook the man's hand formally. Harry's lips twitched from amusement.

 _“_ You as well, Mr. Mason.”

Snape looked at Harry and sighed. He grasped his elbow gently and shook him lightly.

 _“_ Give her to me for a moment.”

 _“_ What? Ah, all right,” Harry passed the baby to Snape. She went calmly, immediately busying herself with the man's hair.

The younger man dropped to one knee, one level with Talitha's eyes. She looked at him hesitantly, her curls arranged neatly on her head. Harry had been brushing her hair every day since the children were placed under his care. The fact made something tender bloom in his chest. He opened his arms wide and made an inviting gesture. She stepped towards him and he embraced her, holding her tight against his chest. She was so small against him. His heart ached in his chest.

 _“_ You shouldn't worry. You'll find a family that suits you in no time,” Harry said stroking her head.

 _“_ Thank you, Harry.”

He let go of her, giving her a fake smile. He was afraid he would falter, wanting to frown, instead. His face muscles felt stiff and unresponsive. He stretched his arms for Abraxos. The boy wavered. He looked up, questioning, at Snape and the man gave him a small nod. He stepped into Harry's arms and was crushed against his chest.

 _“_ You'll be good boy, won't you?” Harry asked his voice thick with emotion. “Promise to remember my words about the muggles. They are worth your consideration.”

The boy nodded. Harry stood up and placed a kiss on top of Clara's head. Snape placed the baby in the young man's arms, although he did stroke her cheek gently, before dropping his arms.

 _“_ Watch after your sister, alright?” Harry said to the older siblings. He looked into the infant's eyes. “You'll grow up to be a lovely person, I just know it.” From the corner of his eyes he saw Snape place an open palm on Talitha's head and bid her farewell.

 _“_ We'll be here all morning, if Potter won't hurry up,” Snape huffed.

Harry snorted. He started to get teary eyed, but Snape's remark had hit its target. He gave Clara his last kiss and walked to the lady who worked at the Orphanage. He passed the infant to her, while Snape watched him concerned. Harry told himself to be strong. He looked apologetically to the woman.

 _“_ Sorry for wasting your time, Ms. -”

 _“_ Ms. Pearl, no worry at all my dear,” Harry lifted his brows. “Oh, yes. My mother opened this place, when Voldemort first arisen,” she cooed at the baby. “It was a miracle to find your friends to house the children, while we built a new wing. Young men aiding us after the war had been a blessing.”

Harry nodded. One by one he watched children disappear behind the wooden door. It closed with a soft click and Harry knew another chapter in his life was finished. He turned and started walking. Snape caught up to him after a moment. Harry felt a hand grasp his, fingers intertwining. He felt a wave of gratitude flood his senses. He didn't trust himself to look at Snape yet, so he kept walking. Something just clicked into place, while he was watching the kids go.

 _“_ I felt uneasy about yesterday, taking children to movies and such,” he talked as they walked through the village. “I couldn't quite place it. And it occurred to me – I didn't even think to ask the children what they wanted to do our last day together. I just went with the experiences I lacked as a child,” Snape's hand squeezed his own and Harry understood the man was listening to him. “It was the same with Talitha's birthday. I threw her a party I would have wanted; I didn't ask what she wanted. It never even occurred to me. That's all I have done with them, I tried to fulfill my own selfish desires and enjoy things I lacked through Talitha and Abraxos.” he confessed in a rush, his voice breaking.

Harry looked at his feet. “I'm so pathetic. I can't believe I haven't noticed earlier. I'm unfit to be a guardian, Snape.”

 _“_ Hardly unfit,” responded the man. “Perhaps it is true; you've tried to impose your desires onto the Masons. But you saw your mistake. Potter, it had only been a month, you've hardly left a lasting damage. These children have difficult times ahead of them, especially the young Abraxos. You've noticed I assume the truly magnificent power of his magic? I've never come across a child with such levels of potency. I can think of no better person, than you, to turn him away from Death Eater rhetoric his parents poisoned him with.”

 _“_ I must admit his cruelty frightened me,” Harry finally threw a glance in the man direction. “I wouldn't be so calm, if it weren't for you.”

 _“_ Children are cruel little beasts, Potter. They're curious about pain, power, life and death. Some find themselves drawn to these forces more than others. Abraxos might share his father’s inclinations, but that doesn't mean he won't grow up to control them.”

Harry's father and Snape's worst memory came to Harry's mind. He wasn't fool enough to voice it, however. The Marauders certainly had a cruel streak, beyond what went simple mischievousness. Maybe be more so when Snape was concerned. Distracted, Harry looked around himself.

 _“_ Something about this place feels familiar.”

Snape stopped and Harry was yanked to a halt beside him. The man appeared wounded by something, doubt reading clearly on his face.

 _“_ Albus was born here,” said the man his voice pained.

 _“_ Oh.”

That effectively ended the conversation. They still held hands, as they apparated together to Ottery St. Catchpole, where they were supposed to meet with Ron. When they arrived, Snape disentangled his arm from Harry's grip.

Harry looked at the man's uncomfortable expression. The color was high in his cheeks. On a sudden impulse Harry stepped forwards and closed his hands around the man. He heard the older man take a shaky breath. His hand came up briefly to ruffle Harry's hair. Snape body was hard and bony beneath his palms; he was warm and smelled faintly of his lilac aftershave and peppermint. Harry's stomach filled with butterflies, his heart beating fast.

 _Oh_ , he thought. He wanted to stay like this forever. He was close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of Snape's chest. The man's fingers traced the hairline on his neck lightly. His thumb circled around to caress Harry's earlobe. Harry shivered. He felt the light caress awaken something deep inside him, a desperate yearning for _more_.

He stepped back on shaky legs and gave the man a small smile. The man looked at him, as if he couldn't figure out what to make of that gesture. His face had lost its harsh lines and the area around his mouth looked less severe. He was almost smiling. Harry turned and they resumed the pace they had at the previous village.

They were walking towards Mr. Weasley's house, when Snape reached out and tugged on Harry's tee.

 _“_ These are not your size,” he commented simply. Then he tugged on Harry's baggy jeans. “Neither are these, Mr. Potter.”

 _“_ Well, yes.” the boy responded patiently. “What's your point, Severus?” he kept walking and Snape was walking close behind him.

 _“_ My point is that they are your cousin's hand-me-downs,” the man sneered. “My point is: I never saw you in anything other than exactly that – your cousin's clothes.”

 _“_ I don't understand, what are you getting into?” Harry was always uncomfortable when the matter involved Dursley's treatment of him. He didn't want to talk about aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon. He still had nightmares of being trapped in a cupboard. The Weasley's house loomed in the distance and Harry picked up the pace to avoid the conversation.

 _“_ You don't even deny it,” spit out the man. He was clearly frustrated. “Cupboard under the stairs, no birthday celebrations, wearing your cousin's clothes. What else they did to you? When you've been placed with Petunia, I should have known she would treat you less than a...”

Harry was filled with familiar embarrassment and shame at growing up an unloved child. He tried to change the topic. “Oh, I forgot you two know each other.”

Snape paused. “Yes, that we do”

Harry felt Snape's gaze boring into him. The back of his neck prickled and he felt like owed the older man some kind of explanation. But why did the man care now? What had changed? Perhaps the man had always believed him to be someone he was not and he was just discovering his image of Harry was just an illusion. Ron and Hermione knew how he had been treated and they were angered too. Perhaps it wasn't surprising Snape was reacting this way? As if he... cared about him. That thought made Harry speak up.

 _“_ Look, Dumbledore knew how the Dursleys were. I was placed there for my protection. Did I wish they treated me differently? Yes. But once I went to Hogwarts everything had changed.”

Snape didn't reply as they have just entered the Weasley garden. Harry walked to the door and knocked loudly.

Only Molly and Ron were at home.

They greeted Harry warmly; so much so, it contrasted drastically with their treatment of Severus. Molly was especially awkward around the man, fussing around him and not looking him in the eye.

The lunch was ready, so soon they were seated in the kitchen. Harry recognized the tableware from previous times he dined at Weasleys. The blue sparrows adorned the plates and Harry dug into his meal. Ron elbowed him midway.

 _“_ Ginny is out with Dean again mate.”

 _“_ Oh,” said Harry. He completely forgot about Ginny.

 _“_ I don't know what to tell you but if you won't do something soon you're going to lose her,” said Ron. He raised his hands apologetically.

Harry glanced quickly at Snape. Discussing Ginny with Snape present filled Harry with dread. Snape appeared engrossed in his lunch, eating carefully. Occasionally he would remove small pieces from his bread and eat them. Harry still remembered the light scent of lilacs that clung to the man. He wished wistfully that their embrace lasted longer. He turned back to his soup and Ron, thankfully, dropped the subject of his sister.

 _“_ Are you happy to be on your own again?” asked Ron slurping his soup. “Angelina and George had to watch over cranky twelve year old, gave George a little bit of distraction, which is good if you ask me.”

 _“_ Kind of already miss mine, to be honest, though I couldn't have done it without Severus.”

Ron was mildly disconcerted at the use of Snape's first name, but Molly appeared delighted.

 _“_ Really Harry?” Molly asked. Harry noticed she had a white towel with colorful sparrows on it tucked into her waist. “Oh, Severus it's so good of you to help Harry, I'm sure they were the most wonderful children.”

Harry and Snape exchanged knowing look.

After the lunch Harry went upstairs with Ron, leaving Snape at Molly's mercy. He felt sorry for the man, but he wanted a private moment with his best friend. Ron told him about the rebuilding of Hogwarts, the work appeared to be finished. The French construction workers were just applying final touches. Hermione was currently with her parents, she wanted Ron to speak to Harry about his plans for the future.

 _“_ She's intent to going back and finishing our 7th year at Hogwarts. She wants me to tell you can take a gap year, before pursuing your education and no one would blame you, but you need to make plans for the future.” Ron sat on the bed and Harry followed. “McGonagall talked to her about it. Many muggle-borns of all years stayed away during the past year and have to return and finish the missed courses. Not to mention the part of school that was hiding in the Requirement Room and never went to their classes. They all have to do it all over again.”

 _“_ I still don't know what I wanna do,” Harry smiled sheepishly.

 _“_ I'm going back. Hermione drilled it in me, the importance of a diploma. I know Fred and George didn't have theirs, but I need one if I want to become an Auror, you know?” Ron scratched his eyebrow and placed his wand on the bed table. The color of his hair blended with the color of the walls. The familiarity of it filled Harry with a nostalgia, thick enough for polyjuice potion.

Startled Harry realized there were no Chudley Cannons posters on the walls. They were completely bare, clean, empty. Harry's heart filled with sadness. It was unsurprising his friend grew out of his obsession with the quidditch team. It made Harry wonder what changes he would see in the future in Hermione and other Weasleys.

Speaking of.

Harry mustered all his courage and decided to breach the topic. He was silent long enough.

 _“_ How's George and... Ginny?”

 _“_ Ginny's fine. She's been a good help around the Hogwarts. She and Dean made quite a team,” his friend looked at him nervously, expecting Harry to start yelling at any moment. Harry didn't.

 _“_ George is not doing so well. Hell, Mom and Dad aren't and neither am I. We're so used to them being together, we stumble over every time it's only George there. The other day mom yelled “Fred and George” for dinner,” said Ron. Harry could tell he was frustrated. “That gave us all a pause. We can't keep treating George like that, you know? I can't imagine what it's like for him.”

Harry understood. Fred and George were always a double act. Even Harry would search a second redhead near, when he was around George.

 _“_ I'm sorry,” he said. And he meant it.

Ron simply shrugged him off, but Harry wasn't fooled.

 _“_ How come you showed up with Snape?”

Harry told Ron about the older man's arrest and how he had volunteered to be his guardian until the trial.

 _“_ You don't seek easy ways, Harry,” chuckled his friend.

 _“_ It's not really that awful. You know how I feel about Snape after everything he's done for our side,” Harry said. He wouldn't mention how far his feelings of gratitude extended. How much past beyond simple appreciation he's allowed himself to go.

 _“_ Yeah, I reckon you've got a bit of hero worship for the Greasy Git.”

Harry felt himself blush. They talked a little bit about Hermione's parents and how they dealt with the fact that she moved them Australia. Harry knew Ron and Hermione were together now, but he didn't see any change in the way Ron spoke about their best friend. Ron stopped short when Harry was ready to leave and reached out to hug him. Harry leaned into the touch.

He noted how different this hug was from the one he shared with Snape. There were no butterflies in his stomach, no desperate yearning. Just a soft touch and warmth. The hug didn't make him unsteady on his feet, or closer to the edge. But Snape did it to him; he made Harry feel things, _want_ things. And now Harry has thrown himself into a deal where he had to be close to the man all hours of the day.

Ron released Harry from his embrace, clearly embarrassed by this display of affection. The apples of his cheeks and his neck were red, clashing madly with his freckles. They said their goodbyes and Harry went downstairs to Snape, who was clearly suffering silently under Molly's company. They stepped outside together and apparated to Grimmauld's Place.

The air in London smelt different than in Ottery St. Catchpole. It appeared it has been raining, while they were away. They approached the house and Harry's attention was drawn to a puddle that looked like a dog. Something heavy curled around his shoulders. He lived in Grimmauld Place after the war, but the house had always made him feel sad and apprehensive. The place held too many memories, too many what ifs in its belly.

They were greeted with commotion in the corridor. Harry recognized the people he have met before – new Order members. Snape went wooden beside him.

 _“_ What's the meaning of this?” he hissed in Harry's ear.

 _“_ It's the new Order of Phoenix. They still have meetings here.”

Kingsley saw them and waved his hand.

 _“_ Ah, Harry. It's good to see you... You too Severus,” the man shook Harry's hand and gave Snape a curt nod. “We've just been leaving. I'm happy to report this would be our last meeting. Hopefully for a long time to come. Practically all the Death Eaters have been captured and what's left would be taken care of by Aurors.”

 _“_ That's great news, Kingsley!”

 _“_ And my trial?” asked Snape, hiding his face behind a curtain of hair.

 _“_ Out of my jurisdiction, I'm afraid.”

 _“_ Very well,” the man gave a hint of unpleasant smile. “I can't help but notice you've used an already compromised location for your base of operations. This decision can seem unwise to a careful observer. But I'm sure you've had your reasons to attract dangerous attention to the Potter's house,” the Auror addressed tilted his head, his jaw working, but Snape didn't stop. “Now that you've played the heroes and locked up all the unwanted people behind bars, can we trust you to keep out of Potter's house and give him a quiet evening or two? Or should we wait until Mr. Potter deigns to use the last of his brain cells to put the house under a new Fidelius Charm?”

 _“_ Severus!” now it was Harry's turn to hiss at the man.

 _“_ I'm sorry, Harry,” Kingsley said addressing Harry, not Snape. “Although after our victory it was unlikely the house would be attacked, I admit it was possible. Unfortunately with so many places a disarray after the war ended, this had seemed like the only location for Order,” the Auror finally turned to Snape. “We can't afford additional expense, you realize.”

 _“_ I remember a time when the safety of the boy was our first priority,” replied Snape dryly.

 _“_ Things have changed.”

 _“_ I see,” the Potions Master drawled quietly, his lips a thin disapproving line.

Harry understood that since he fulfilled the prophecy his life was no longer worth more than the lives of other people. Before that the Order protected him at all costs, but now he was as valuable as every other member. It was a relief. Harry didn't want to be special, has resented the attention and was glad he was no longer the focal point of the Order's objectives. Snape, apparently, hadn't felt the same.

Which was odd, since he bemoaned Harry being special at every opportunity. Harry was puzzled. The man was a walking contradiction, wrapped in a mystery. Snape reacted badly when Harry was in danger, he remembered. Even though Harry was no longer the Chosen One and he fulfilled his destiny, it appeared Snape still prioritized his safety. But why? Some small part of Harry told him it was because Snape grew to care about him, but he didn't let himself believe that. Just because you want something to be true, doesn't mean it is, Harry told himself firmly.

 _“_ Never thought I'd see this miserable place again,” Snape said looking around himself.

 _“_ Cheer up, at least you won't have to share a bed with me here. You can choose any room to sleep,” laughed Harry.

Snape looked at Harry strangely. “Indeed,” was all he said.

Harry called Kreacher and asked him to make dinner. The elf was less crass and difficult than usual, surprising Harry. Perhaps he missed having people live in the house. Harry went to his room and spent the afternoon unpacking and putting his clothes in a closet. He shrank his belongings into a tiny bag and was afraid it would make his clothes stick together, or something, but they came out fine.

His room smelled of dust and broom polish he had spilled in it year earlier. He supposed he was home now. Strangely, it didn't feel like it. He still considered Hogwarts to be his true home. What did Ron say? He needed to sort out his future plans. But he couldn't go back to Hogwarts before Snape had his trial. He was Snape's guardian.

Still occupied with thoughts about the future he came down for dinner. Kreacher had really outdone himself. He had a three course meal prepared in the dining room. Snape was already seated at the table. Although it wasn't dark outside, the gloomy room was bathed in candlelight. Harry was ready for a quick dinner in the kitchen; he was taken aback by the formal display. It is my house, he reminded himself, should he be too intimidated to act normally. He sat at the table and made no ceremonies out of digging in his meal.

He looked at Snape curiously. The Potions Master's eyes appeared endless pools of darkness in candlelight. He kept throwing glances at Harry.

 _“_ I have to say, waking up to the strange news of your survival was unexpected,” he finally breached the silence.

Harry looked up from his chicken and turned to face the man. It occurred to him Snape and he were finally alone, with no threat of interruption from the children. No more loud kids to burst into the room when the conversation grew personal.

 _“_ Haha. Well that's me, always trying to shock the crowd,” Harry joked.

 _“_ Hm... Minerva mentioned they thought you were dead for a moment.” Snape dropped all of pretense of being engrossed in his meal, his fingers gripping the napkin tightly. “What exactly had happened in the forest, Mr Potter?”

Harry sighed. Snape didn't beat around the bush, did he. Harry put aside his fork and began his story. He told Snape the entire tale, starting from the time the man bled on the floor of the Shrieking Shack to Harry walking towards Voldermort (Snape flinched at the use of the name) and dying by his hand. He carefully omitted the part about the Resurrection Stone and his private manifestation of limbo, where he saw Dumbledore at the King's Cross station. He told Snape about Narcissa's help. If Snape was surprised, he didn't show it. He didn't interrupt Harry once. When Harry finished his story, Snape appeared deep in thought.

 _“_ I imagine you were not terribly fond of me right after you saw the memories I've had to part with,” Snape said ruefully.

 _“_ You? Why?”

Snape's face twisted in anger, before he got control of himself.

 _“_ Do you not know?” the man asked incredulously. “I've. Sent. You. To. Your. Death, Potter,” he tapped the table harshly to emphasize each word.

 _“_ Right. That's what Dumbledore has planned,” said Harry carefully.

 _“_ Regardless if it was the only way to win the war, therefore, from your point of view, the so called “right thing to do”. It was _inexcusable_. Surely, that would have made you angry. You were our lamb for slaughter!”

 _“_ That's where you're wrong. I've chosen this myself,” Snape sucked in a deep breath, startled by Harry's words. “Because I wanted him gone. Nobody else, not you, not Dumbledore made me do it.”

Snape considered him, his jaw clenched. He closed his eyes and when he opened them they were sad.

 _“_ You can't mean you've forgiven this.”

Harry pushed his chair back, frustrated. His hands ended up tangled in his hair. He puffed a wiff of air and shook his head. Snape was such a frustrating prick.

 _“_ Do you feel guilty for delivering Dumbledore's message to me?” he asked, his voice confrontational.

Snape grew silent. An ugly flush risen on his face. He did feel guilty or, perhaps, angry about sending The Chosen One to his death, Harry sensed. Finally, Snape said:

 _“_ I've sworn to protect you. I've watched over you from the moment you set foot on the castle grounds. I've watched your reckless, insolent, rule breaking self, grow through six years of school. I've tried to save you more times that I could spare counting,” the man's voice grew hoarse with emotion. “There should've been another way. There's always another way.”

Snape looked away. “But I didn't find it, no matter how hard I tried”

 _“_ Severus,” Harry placed his hand on top of the man's hand.

Snape took his hand and yanked Harry so hard, he stumbled out of his chair, the table rattling, until his and Snape's faces were inches apart.

 _“_ Be angry the next time someone tries to send you to your demise, Potter. Rebel. Fight. Do what it is you Griffyndor fools do and challenge them. But, most importantly, do not forgive them for it.”

 _“_ I...”

Before Harry could finish his sentence Snape stood up abruptly and left without saying another word.

Harry blinked. He looked at his dinner and couldn't decide to finish it or not. He continued with the meal confused and went to bed. He lay there for hours tossing and turning. He was full of convoluted thoughts and feeling fighting with each other.

If Snape only cared about Lily's legacy in the war, he would have never sent her son to die. But he did. In the end Snape and him both chose to do the right thing, even if upon reflection Snape thought his actions inexcusable.

It appeared as if Snape cared, truly cared, about Harry's wellbeing. Was it just wishful thinking on Harry's part? Or did Snape really cared about him? Harry's bones ached with longing when he thought Snape's feelings toward him might not be indifferent.

Harry came back to the words Snape threw at him at dinner. Snape wanted Harry to resent him for sending him into Voldemort's hands. The man didn't want to be forgiven for simply playing his part. What did he call Harry? Lamb for slaughter. But Harry didn't resent him. He wasn't even angry. He did feel betrayed for a moment, and that feeling had roots growing in his heart all the past year, plagued with doubt and misunderstandings. But it wasn't Snape who inspired these feelings. It was Dumbledore.

Something deep and sharp twisted in his gut. Harry felt his buried emotions slither across his arms, his chest, his neck. The slimy tendons of misery twisting tighter and tighter around him, as he struggled to even out his breath. Yes, Dumbledore's betrayal still stung. No matter how far down he tried to push the anger, it still simmered within him. In the end the former Headmaster had to have known there was a big chance of Harry's survival even if he didn't share that fact with Snape or Harry himself.

It wasn't like Dumbledore had a choice, Harry told himself for a thousandth time.

A choked sob escaped his mouth. Snape, apparently, was still grippling with moral qualms over things he had no control over. Harry supposed the man could have hidden the vital part of information from him but that would lead to their defeat. So many lives would be lost, even more than they've already suffered. It was a right thing to do. But that probably didn't make it any easier for the man.

Snape cared, whether he would admit it or not. He must have.

When Harry fell asleep he dreamt about a garden filled with apple trees and thorny raspberry bushes and among them a beautiful single doe, wandering by itself. Each time he tried to get close to the animal it escaped his touch.

Harry woke in the middle of the night, his heart beating rapidly. A need he could feel in his lungs, every time he took a breath and he was afraid to think about what that longing meant. Even though he knew, as he reached an empty space on his bed. He wished someone else was lying there beside him.

But Snape was probably fast asleep by now.

Harry wondered what filled his dreams.

 

***

 

The next morning Harry found Snape in a library, buried in the old tomes. Snape paid him no attention, as Harry left a cup of tea on a tray next to an old book the man was reading. He had nothing to do and was about to travel to Mrs. Figg's to feed the cats, when the doorbell chimed. Harry was surprised to see Ron and Hermione on the doorstep.

 _“_ Hi, Harry. Whatcha been doin'?” Ron gave his shoulder a bump.

 _“_ Nothing really. I was about to go to Mrs. Figg's to feed the cats.”

 _“_ About that,” said Hermione, after giving a kiss to Harry's cheek. “I've made schedule and mailed it to the DA members. We'll take turns feeding the cats, today I think it's Seamus's turn.”

 _“_ You really didn't have to Hermione, I've got nothing to do anyway.”

 _“_ Now that you mention it, Harry...” his friend looked at him with conspiring eyes.

 _“_ Wait, let me get us some tea.”

Harry looked around the living room. Would Kreacher get them tea, if he asked him? Or would he better do it himself? He called the elf and asked for tea. The elf eyes boggled when he saw Hermione and he muttered something under his breath. Harry looked at Hermione, but the girl observed the elf with no small amount of pity.

 _“_ You were saying?” Harry took a sip of his hot tea and put an entire cookie into his mouth, chewing sloppily. Good Snape couldn't see him right now.

 _“_ I've been reading the Daily Prophet and it's full of articles about people complaining about Dementors,” Hermione took her cup and blew lightly on a surface. “Since they've abandoned their post in Azkaban and joined Voldemort, they have been a nuisance to the ordinary people. After Voldemort fell they have scattered around the country and now terrorize Wizarding Villages.”

 _“_ Yeah, I remember a guy from the Department of... Creatures...” struggled Harry.

 _“_ Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” supplied Ron helpfully. He had emptied his plate from cookies and was eyeing Hermione's plate.

 _“_ Yeah, that's right. The guy from there told me about the Dementors they have to banish from people's back yards.”

 _“_ That's correct, Harry. You know we've never learned to cast a Patronus charm in our classes. Most of the Wizards don't know how to banish the Dementors they encounter, so they call the Ministry. I've thought that maybe we could teach them how to cast a Patronus,” Hermione pushed her cookie plate towards Ron and he dug into it, delighted. “The Dementors gather in groups and surround the houses they've chosen. Some people end up stuck inside too afraid to leave their house. We must do something,” she said passionately.

 _“_ But how do you propose we teach people, Hermione? There's no Room of Requirement around,” asked Harry puzzled.

 _“_ We want to give an advertisement on the pages of the Prophet. People would hire us, free of charge, of course, and we'd teach the one's willing to learn. I think it would be beneficial to work in groups and work... well, from people's back yards.”

 _“_ Teaching people and taking no money for it when we don't even have the funds to advertise in a Prophet,” concluded Ron. “Yeah, that's our brilliant plan.”

Hermione glared at Ron.

 _“_ I'll pay it. I'll pay for it, Hermione,” said Harry instantly.

 _“_ Pay for what exactly?” Snape materialized in the room out of nowhere.

Everybody jumped in their seats. Ron spilled his tea. They didn't hear the man come in. Trust Snape to retain his stealth. Harry explained to the man Hermione's plan and Snape responded with a “Hm”. Snape in turn told them about a Dark wizard by the name of Raczidian, who was devoured by maggots attempting a Patronus charm.

 _“_ You see, Patronus charm is not always effective against the Dementors,” the Potions Master concluded.

 _“_ What else is there?” asked Ron. He was trying to clean up the mess he's made with a handkerchief.

 _“_ Occlumency, Mr. Weasley,” responded the older man. He raised his chin and folded his arms over his chest. “Those of us with a more... _Dark_ inclinations may forego the route of casting a Patronus charm and use Occlumency to shield their minds from the Dementor's influence.”

 _“_ Look, if you want to teach people who can't do the Patronus charm Occlumency, that's great. We can include Occlumency in our advertisement,” said Harry, already imagining them working together.

 _“_ There's one problem Mr. Potter,” objected Snape.

 _“_ Okay, what?”

 _“_ You swore to Kingsley you'll look after my every step, and as unfortunate as that maybe, where I go you must too,” said Snape.

That was the opposite of the problem for Harry. He wanted to work with people he trusted and he trusted Severus. He would choose to work near the man even if he wasn't obliged to do so.

 _“_ That's alright with me,” said Harry amicably.

It was time for dinner, when Ron and Hermione left. His friends had discussed the outline of an advertisement for Prophet and Hermione wanted to write the letter to the paper this instant, when Ron reminded her that Harry didn't have an owl. Hermione was already anticipating involving the rest of the DA in their lessons. Ron complained half-heartedly about them being free, again, but dropped the matter when Hermione started to get annoyed.

 _“_ You didn't have to offer your services, you know,” said Harry to Snape as he chewed his potatoes.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “How very irritating. I was convinced I was under some sort of obligation.”

 _“_ Ha-ha, Snape.”

 _“_ Oh, it's Snape is it? Merely a day ago I was Severus. How quickly does the youth change its mind,” drawled the man.

Harry laughed. “You're in a good mood today. I can tell.”

Snape only shrugged and tilted his big nose just so.

 

***

 

The next morning started as usual. Harry brushed his teeth, took a quick shower and was drying himself with a towel, when he noticed the back of the chair where he hanged his clothes was empty. He found it odd and reached into the closet to dress into something else. Except the closet was empty too. Great, he though, just what he needed this morning. He called Kreacher, but the elf did not respond.

Harry couldn't venture into the rest of the house only in his boxers, could he? What if Snape saw him? He called Kreacher again and waited. Nothing happened. Maybe if he was quick enough, Snape wouldn't notice? Harry imagined explaining his partially nude state to the man and chuckled. He opened the door tentatively and took a look around. The stairs were empty and the rest of the house was silent.

Harry stepped out of the room hurriedly. He only took a couple of steps down the stairs, when he lost his footing and the world around him tilted rapidly. He lost all orientation, tumbling down the stairs. He hit his elbow and knocked his head so hard he saw stars, his fall picking up the speed, when a deep voice boomed.

 _“_ Immobulus!”

Harry froze in the air. He breathed a sigh of relief.

 _“_ Mr. Potter, have you gone entirely mad?” there were black shoes with two little silver snakes in corners in the line of his vision. “Finite Incantatem!”

Harry dropped like a sack of potatoes on the floor. He moaned in pain.

 _“_ Oww... Bloody hell, that hurt!”

Harry blinked, his head dizzy. Snape was dressed in his usual robes, so Harry figured he was the only one who woke up to his clothes absent. The man looked alarmed, his dark eyes searching.

 _“_ Why are tumbling the stairs barely dressed, you impossible child?”

 _“_ I fell. I didn't know how it happened, my foot just slipped.” Harry said rubbing his knee. It appeared he tore the skin here and there, but it didn't feel like he'd broken anything. “Whew... that was close...”

Harry's stretched his hand to get a hold of railing. Snape took his hand, his touch cool and steady, and helped him to get on his feet. Harry winced in pain. He suspected he acquired a dozen of bruises, while he was falling.

 _“_ Kreacher! Kreacher, come out here, you pest!” Harry barked.

The elf appeared second later, looking very pleased with himself. Harry half expected him to be wearing all of his missing clothes, but he was dressed in his usual attire.

 _“_ Master Harry call Kreacher?”

 _“_ Where are my clothes?!” Harry tried very hard not to yell.

 _“_ Dirty, dirty boy with his dirty, dirty clothes,” mumbled the elf under his breath. Harry choked with indignation. “They're in wash, Master Harry,” the elf said addressing him directly.

 _“_ What? All of them?” Harry asked bewildered.

 _“_ Yes.”

Harry wanted to hit his head onto something, again. His clothes weren't even that dirty. He did laundry. Sure, he hasn’t washed his jeans in a while and he had run out of tees to wear, but that didn't mean Kreacher had to send all of clothes to the wash, did it? He looked at the elf in misery.

 _“_ While this is wildly entertaining, I must ask you Potter to come with me.” Snape interrupted. “You'll need those healed,” he pointed at his head and then his knee. “Come,” the man waved him in his room. Harry didn't know which room in the house Snape occupied, but now he figured he was lucky to be rolling past it at the right time.

 _“_ Right. I'm fine...Um, I mean thank you, but I'm alright,” he didn't want to be ungrateful.

Harry stepped towards the man and his world tilted. “Whoa.”

Snape's arm seized him by the shoulder, steadying him so he wouldn't fall.

 _“_ Marvelous,” the man sighed. “You've got yourself a concussion.”

Snape's hand caressed his shoulder, his touch feather light. Harry felt goosebumps rise on his hands. The next thing he knew he was lifted from his feet, Snape's arm coming up underneath his knees to raise him from the floor. Harry was so surprised it took him a moment to gather his wits. The dark material of the man's robes felt soft against his skin and this close to the man Harry could smell his lilac aftershave again.

 _“_ You could have levitated me!” his voice wavered from the sheer embarrassment.

 _“_ And risking you emptying your guts in my room because of a slight vertigo? I'll think I'll pass on the opportunity,” Snape grunted.

He carried the boy to his bed, his steps careful. Snape's hands felt bony against Harry's body, but he found himself enjoying the position anyway, his cheeks red. The man lowered him on the bed and Harry closed his eyes, because the headboard in his vision kept spinning. He felt like the bed was shaky underneath him, the sensation making him sick. He broke into a sweat from dizziness.

Snape had returned after a while and Harry felt nimble hands support his head, while a vial was pressed to his lips. Harry swallowed the thick bitter fluid. He felt better almost immediately, his stomach settling. His hand reached for the older man. He got a fistful of Snape's robes.

 _“_ Thank you. Feels loads better.”

 _“_ As it should.”

The man walked into the bathroom and Harry heard the sounds of water running. He rested there, on Snape's bed, slowly coming back to himself. After a minute Snape appeared near the bed, bending to pick Harry up again. Yeah, this was too embarrassing, Harry decided. He wasn't some kind of fair maiden to be carried around everywhere.

 _“_ I can walk,” he warned the man, sitting up in bed.

 _“_ Very well, walk,” Snape looked displeased, crossing his arms in front of him.

Harry dangled his feet from edge of the bed, his feet finding the slippers. He stood up and felt the floor run from underneath him.

 _“_ Help,” he squeaked.

Snape gripped him firmly under the shoulders. Harry's feet were dragging onto the floor. The man was leading him to the bathroom and Harry followed, perplexed about his destination. Harry saw a bath, filled with transparent water with a purple tinge. It smelled strongly of wormwood and smoke, the scent bitter against his tongue.

 _“_ I don't need a bath.”

 _“_ It's against the bruising and your cuts. It's also best if you relax and rest after the potion I gave you, to best recover from your concussion.”

Harry hesitated, before stepping into the bath right in his boxers. Snape's arms helped him to lie in the tub, his touch sending pleasant spikes in Harry's nervous system. The water was warm, but not enough to feel hot. Snape's hands checked his pulse, waved a few diagnostic charms around him. The man ran a finger on Harry's open wound on his knee. Even the small pressure there hurt, but Harry found the sensation intriguing, heat growing between his thighs.

He felt naked and exposed. Harry tried to suppress the way his toes curled from being in that position in Snape's presence. If it was anyone else, the vulnerability would be unwelcome, but he felt safe in Snape's presence. Horrified Harry discovered a delicious eagerness to feel even more exposed, than he already was. To make Snape look. To have that heavy gaze rest on him.

What was wrong with him?

He tried to distract himself from such thoughts. It wouldn't be long before Snape noticed how strangely Harry was reacting to the bath.

 _“_ Did you put something in a water? It tingles,” Harry said, his voice light.

 _“_ Of course I've put something in it Potter,” said the older man clearly peeved. “Or do you think I've just drawn you a bath for no reason?” The man was standing over Harry, his head bent to look down. His hands were drawn into fists, tense, as if he was keeping himself from touching something.

 _“_ Mmm, it's nice anyway.”

 _“_ If this is your usual rate of knocking your head on something, then it's no wonder you're such a dunderhead,” the man continued the conversation. His eyes flickered momentarily to Harry's bare stomach, guilt passing behind his features.

 _“_ Oi, that's rich of you to attack me at my weakest,” Harry laughed. He was really feeling better. He relaxed in the hot water, feeling it work against his scratches and painful places. “Although I have to admit, this is becoming a sort of a habit lately.”

Snape stroked his chin. “And you think nothing of it, do you?”

 _“_ What do you mean?” Harry asked. His eyelids were drooping, he yawned covering his mouth.

 _“_ Hitting your head on a rock, getting assaulted by a Basilisk, finding a Nundu and being mauled, that passing car when you've insisted we gawk at the animals – it almost hit you, dying of a cold and then getting electrocuted by your kitchen appliances. And now this,” Snape pointed at him.

 _“_ Yeah, I've been pretty unlucky lately,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. Snape's eyes tracked the movement.

 _“_ Luck has nothing to do with it,” dismissed the man.

Harry tried to stay awake and concentrate on what Snape was implying. Did Snape think he must be more careful? He said so in the past, but right now the man didn't look like he was angry at him. If Snape had though Harry was intentionally being careless, he would be already yelling at him for being reckless. There was another possibility, however. Even he had to admit his brushes with danger had a strange pattern to them.

 _“_ What are you saying?” he asked directly. “You think I'm cursed?”

 _“_ You are,” confirmed the older man. He was satisfied Harry’s guess has been correct. “I simply do not know which curse it is.”

 _“_ Oh, come on!” Harry moaned disappointed. “You think someone is after my head again? It's only been a couple of month. Don't I get a break?” he hit the water, upset, the waves sloshing dangerously close to the edges of the tub. Some of the water ended up falling on Snape's robes. The man glared at him.

 _“_ The remaining Death Eaters, although few, are still roaming freely, to say nothing of numerous Dark Creatures loyal to the Dark Lord. They must have been left seething after his defeat.”

Harry sighed and looked at the ceiling. There was a piece of black mold growing in the right corner of the room. It looked ominous, but maybe that was just his imagination. He didn't want to go back to worrying and fearing for his life. Harry's hand covered his eyes. At least his friends were not in any danger now.

 _“_ I thought it was all over, you know,” he mumbled.

 _“_ I'm sure Albus have had similar sentiments when he defeated Grindelwald,” Snape dipped his hand in the water. His fingers brushed Harry's elbow. He cast a warming charm on the water. “I'll be here in half an hour. The water should treat your bruises and the potion I gave you earlier should work through your system.” Snape's fingers brushed the fringe out of Harry's eyes. Harry leaned into the touch. “Rest, Potter.”

The door behind Snape closed with a soft click. Harry stopped fighting his drowsiness and let the sleep claim him. He dreamt of strange shapes and distant noises, but then the landscape became more ominous. Thick fog bloomed in his vision and he saw a dark figure standing there, as if waiting for him. Cold radiated from the creature, its mind distant and inhuman. It did not call for him but Harry knew their meeting was inevitable. He did not want to go any closer, yet he felt himself float through the mist, the distance between him and the dark cloaked creature shrink. He knew something inevitable were to happen, when that shadow found him, something he did not want to face.

Harry awoke with a start, cold water shooting on his face.

He thrashed in the bathtub, arms flying around him. He was gaping like a fish. Snape had returned and was now looking disapprovingly at him. Belatedly, Harry saw he hadn't gone underwater like he thought. Rather, it was Snape who woke him up by shooting cold water out of his wand, right at his face.

 _“_ Oi, what did you do that for?!” Harry yelled.

 _“_ Time to wake up, Potter,” the man said with a nasty smile.

 _“_ Bastard,” Harry spit.

 _“_ On contrary, my parents very much legally married,” sighed Snape. He banished the water in the tub by a flick of the wand.

Harry stood up and climbed out of the tub. Thankfully he was no longer dizzy, the floor steady beneath him. He looked at the older man and noticed Snape was trying very hard not to look at Harry, his eyes trained on the walls and the ceiling. Every now and then Snape's gaze kept slipping and landing on Harry's hips. The color was high on his cheeks. How odd.

Snape conjured a towel from a rail and it flew gently in his arms. He wrapped it around Harry and the boy shot a grateful look at him. The man uttered a spell and pointed the wand at Harry's crotch. The boy was about to voice his confusion, when he felt the fabric of his boxers went loose and dry around him.

 _“_ Thanks,” he said appreciatively.

 _“_ Your house-elf promised to have your clothes here in two hours. In the meantime,” Snape took off his robe, revealing white shirt and black pants. “Wear this.”

 _“_ Um... It's really unnecessary. I can stay like this.”

 _“_ Potter,” Snape said, clearly pained.

Harry took the robe and tried to get it on. He promptly got lost in the material and felt Snape's hands ease him in, as his head slipped through the garment’s neck. He was faced with the Potions Master standing very close, his arms around him. The black fabric smelled of Snape. The robes still retained the heat from the man's body. Harry felt heat pool between his thighs at the thought of having Snape's scent surround him, all over.

He looked helplessly at the man. Snape seemed to sense the change in Harry's mood, his eyes widening by fraction. They were staring into each other's eyes for a moment. Snape licked his lips, his gaze full of dark fire and Harry stepped thoughtlessly in the space between them. He stood on his tiptoes and pressed his lips against Snape's mouth. Harry's heart was racing against his ribcage, his hands clammy. Snape hadn't shoved him away like Harry expected him to. The kiss was soft, soft and chaste, neither of them venturing to deepen it.

Until the older man sucked in a sharp breath, his tongue licking its way into Harry's mouth. Harry was half-hard already, pleasure coiling between his thighs. Snape's tongue flickered in his mouth and he moaned needily, all caution thrown to the wind.

Immediately Snape recoiled, breaking the kiss. He stepped away from Harry. He had wild look in his eyes. He clenched his hands in fists, one hand covering his mouth, his eyes wide, like he'd done something forbidden and have been caught.

Harry's heart jumped. He worried his bottom lip, still tasting the man on his tongue. Snape composed himself, dropping his hands down his sides and straightening his spine. His face drew into a snarl. Something beneath Harry's breastbone started to hurt. Snape jerked his head, tossing his hair out of his face.

 _“_ You must've hit your head harder than I've imagined.”

Harry felt the angry hot embarrassment rise in his throat. His ears were burning. He wanted to confront Snape, he did. Wanted to yell at him, shove him, _do_ something – anything. He was not a coward! But he was still aroused, confused and he never before felt as vulnerable as at that moment. He was still wearing Snape's robes.

 _“_ Yeah, you're right,” he said coldly instead.

He exited the room on wooden legs, without uttering another word.

They ate their lunch in silence. Harry was fully dressed in his own clothes. He asked Kreacher to deliver Snape's robe to him, not wanting to confront the man himself. Harry tried very hard to focus on his meal. He would only see the older man's movements out of corner of his eye. A glimpse of man's delicate wrist. A lock of hair. He felt itchy all over, craving to get out of dark oppressive space, to leave the house.

Harry reached for bread, at the same time as Snape had. Their hands touched. Harry drew his hand back, as if he's been burned. He glimpsed the corners of Snape's mouth turning down.

 _“_ I think I'll go for a walk after,” he said his voice flat.

 _“_ As you wish,” replied the man smoothly.

Harry walked around the neighborhood for four blocks, the angry bees of his thoughts buzzing incessantly in his head. Snape returned his kiss. Bloody hell, he was sure he didn't imagine that part. Was it just the surprise? Was it the confusion of the moment? But the way his tongue caressed Harry's mouth, did he imagine it also? Because that felt like desire to him, Harry thought angrily. But the way Snape had acted after, like they did something horrible...

Tired of his own thoughts Harry apparated to Mrs. Figgs house. He opened the door with Alohamora and was greeted by the cats. They rubbed at his legs and Harry smiled, in spite of himself. Loud voiced were coming from the living room.

 

He found Ginny and Dean, along with Dudley and Susan, sitting on the couches there, watching a movie. A black box was connected to TV with wires, bright colors on their ends. Harry recognized it as video player. Dudley must have brought it.

Dean noticed him first. He waved at Harry and nudged Ginny on the shoulder, pointing at the door. Harry winced. He really didn't want a company. He needed to be alone, to think, to cool his head. To stop feeling like the world has ended and nothing would be making any sense any time soon. He mouthed “Sorry” to his friends and turned to leave. Ginny jumped out of the sofa, when she noticed him.

 _“_ Wait, Harry, I want to talk to you!”

She crossed the living room in two steps and was beside Harry, peering curiously at him.

 _“_ Outside?” he asked, giving in.

She nodded and they left the house together. Outside it was a cloudy day, the air stuffy, the lawns around the houses were no longer as green as at the start of the summer, the grass dried up in patches. An old woman was tending to her flowers on a lawn across from Mrs. Figg's house. She wore a wide white hat.

The street was eerily quiet. Harry adjusted his glasses and looked at Ginny.

She looked back at him. She was wearing a white linen dress, her hair braided. She took him by the hand and he flinched away from her touch. Ginny looked at him in surprise.

 _“_ What happened?” she asked worried.

 _“_ Nothing,” Harry replied immediately. His voice sounded too high to be natural even to his own ears. He tried again. “It's nothing Gin...,” he tried shift attention from himself. “So you and Dean, huh?”

 _“_ Yeah?” Ginny said her expression uneasy. “Harry, I'm sorry, I really am. I should've told you earlier. This past year was so taxing for us. And Dean and I got so close.” She tugged at her braid, her fingers restless. “I've waited for you Harry, I did. But now I feel like you don't want me anymore,” she said quietly.

 _“_ I'm sorry... I...” Harry didn't know what to say, his jaw freezing.

He really liked Ginny. She was one of his best friends. They has tons of fun together, mostly making fun of others, which sometimes made Harry feel like he wasn't being himself. She was bold and rash, and brave. He felt like he won a prize when she had become his girlfriend. But she never made him feel like the world was turning upside down with just one kiss. She loved him as a hero, but he wanted to be liked despite the fact that he was one, not because of it. She was still his friend, he reminded himself, and therefore, deserved the truth.

 _“_ There's someone else Ginny,” he admitted.

 _“_ No,” she said defeated, stepping away from him. He watched as her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away rapidly, her head held high. Harry felt the guilt weight heavily in his stomach.

 _“_ But they don't even want me,” he added hastily. Was it true?

 _“_ You're The Boy-Who-Lived, Harry, who wouldn't want you?” she said frustrated.

And that was it, really. Even to Ginny he was an image of a Savior, but who was there to save him? Snape, it seemed, wanted the job. Harry couldn't help the pang of pain the name had brought him. It was hopeless to want something so unattainable. Harry knew what it was like to be disappointed, when his dreams faded away because they were impossible. But it was too late, he sensed. He already wanted, wished for something he couldn't have.

 _“_ I've kissed them,” he confessed miserably.

 _“_ Did they kiss back?” Ginny asked without malice.

 _“_ Yes. At first,” Harry ruffled his hair nervously.

Ginny smiled, although it looked pained. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

Harry missed Ron and Hermione at that moment. He wished he could ask them what they thought of Snape and their kiss. He couldn't, of course. He shuddered to think of what they would say if he confessed his feelings. What would Ron say? He would probably think Harry has gone mad. Hermione would check if he wasn't poisoned with love potion. And when they discovered he was perfectly sane and of free will, they would refuse to talk to him again. Harry paused. Harry and Ron, and Hermione went through toughest trials, their bond was too strong, they wouldn't abandon him because he fell for someone, even if that someone was Snape.

Harry smiled at Ginny. Her shoulders relaxed by a margin.

 _“_ Dean understands we haven't broken up yet,” she said rubbing her brow. “I guess we are now?”

 _“_ Um... Yeah,” Harry's though it was unfair to Ginny, but he felt relief wash over him. “I think so. Yes.”

He reached his hand to give her a handshake. It was painfully awkward thing to do. She shook his hand, biting her lip to keep from laughing, her eyes squinting at him humorously.

 _“_ Harry James Potter,” she said officially.

 _“_ Ginny Molly Wealey,” he teased back. He knew full well she loathed when people called her Ginevra. “I wish you happiness, Gin.”

 _“_ You too, Harry,” she said a little sad. She nodded towards the house. “I guess I better go back and watch the Aliens conquer the Earth.”

 _“_ I'd stay, but I think I need to get back now,” Harry said apologetically.

They said their goodbyes and Ginny left him standing alone in front of Mrs. Figg's house. He looked around the neighborhood and decided a short walk wouldn't hurt. He apparated around the corner, transporting himself back to the steps of Grimmauld's Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for two lovely comments! They made my day.


	5. Chapter 5

He felt lighter somehow, less troubled. He knew Ginny had a crush on him since his second year, but she had strength to move on without him. He imagined having feelings for Snape for that long, waiting until one day the man would reciprocate. He huffed a laugh. He would probably have to wait until hell froze over.

He saw a movement in corridor as soon as he stepped through the door. It probably couldn't be anyone but Snape. Harry prepared himself for meeting the man and looking him in the eye.

He could do this.

He was sure the older man would be determined to act like nothing had happened. Well, Harry could play this game too.

Be casual. Act natural. Pretend like he didn't want to punch the man as hard, as he wanted to kiss him again.

God, if one taste of kiss could confuse him this much, he shuddered to think what a little groping could do. He suppressed a laugh. Now that he had a little distance from what happened in the morning, he found the strength in himself to be more optimistic. Snape _had_ kissed him back. It had to mean something.

He was greeted with sight of Snape, sitting in a chair, reading a paper. Two teapots and a cup were resting on a table near the man, along with stack of old books. He looked like he'd been sitting there for a while. Harry's six's sense told him to prepare for trouble. Snape had been waiting for him.

 _“_ That was a rather long walk. Did you get lost?” Snape asked dryly. He put the paper away and stood from the chair, looming above Harry.

 _“_ I went to Mrs. Figg’s house. I met Ginny.”

He knew immediately that was a wrong thing to say. Snape gaze fixed itself on Harry's face, his expression betrayed. The man tossed his hair out of his face, eyes hard and angry. Harry frowned, puzzled by the reaction. He took a small step towards the man, his face open and friendly, but Snape stepped back, stumbling onto a table. The tea cup rattled.

 _“_ And of course you two were so preoccupied with each other, it didn't occur to you people might get worried about your whereabouts,” Snape concluded, his voice colorless.

 _“_ Preoccupied..?” Harry echoed.

Snape turned his back on him, his arms locked behind him. His back was ramrod straight.

 _“_ What are we, mere mortals, in the face of such heart-stopping romance?” he questioned, voice dripping with poison.

 _“_ Wait... What?” Harry asked bewildered. He looked for clues in Snape's behavior. The man sat here waiting for him after Harry kissed him. What did he want? An explanation? An apology? Maybe he wanted to know what the kiss meant, as much as Harry. And then he went to Ginny and... Harry threw his head back in sudden suspicion. “Are you jealous?”

Snape's figure turned to him, startled. The man's face took an ugly expression.

 _“_ Of your little teenage tryst?” Snape drawled, full of contempt. “As amusing as that might be Potter, you're not that important to me. But, of course, you believe yourself to always be at the center of everyone's attentions.”

Ouch. That stung. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.

 _“_ Just so you know,” he said quietly. “We've broken up.”

Snape said nothing, but the corner of his mouth gave a nervous twitch.

 _“_ But I guess,” Harry raised his voice. “I'm not that important for you to care, isn't that right?” He showed the man a rude gesture with both of his arms and walked out of the room. He ran upstairs and slammed the door, hoping Snape would hear it.

He sulked the rest of the afternoon, his good mood gone. The time of dinner drew close and Harry agonized between showing up and facing Snape, or ignoring the man and ordering Kreacher to bring him dinner here. He huffed angrily. He didn't do anything wrong.

Except trying to kiss his professor, his inner voice chided.

Harry punched the pillow frustrated.

It was enough, that when Snape broke the kiss and accused him of hitting his head too hard, he didn't say anything. No. He agreed with the man, even though he knew his head had nothing to do with the kiss. Harry was acting on what his heart, and okay, maybe what his prick was telling him to do. But it wasn't like him to hide from confrontation, so he brushed his hair (it didn't do any good) and went down to dinner, like nothing had happened.

He mightn't have bothered overthinking. Snape didn't show up for dinner. That coward! Kreacher had told him Snape had said he was too busy with his research to come and have a meal. Of all of the excuses to be had, it was research. Harry all but shoved the dinner down his throat, snorting angrily from his unkind thoughts. What an utter prick!

But Harry was in full control of his emotions, he decided. Unlike some. If Snape didn't want to, he'd have to act like an adult. He'll behave like a perfectly civil person when they would meet the next morning for a breakfast. He'll pass the salt and make an idle chat, like Hermione would do. To show Snape he was a fool for hiding out after their little argument. Truthfully, if there was a one thing he couldn't really stand from Snape right now, it was the man ignoring him. Harry was used to animosity, to fights and insults. But to live under one roof with the man and not to see him, not to talk, not even to fight – he really didn't think he could take it.

Determined to act maturely Harry got down to the breakfast in high spirits. Until Snape didn't show again.

Okay, Harry decided. That was a bit much.

Snape had to eat, he couldn't just starve himself because they had a fight, for Christ's sake!

Harry patiently gathered a tray with porridge, toast and coffee and went up the stairs, careful not to spill anything. He stopped by Snape's room and used his foot to knock, because his hands were busy holding the tray. It was former Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room, Harry realized. The last time he'd been there he was too sick to notice it.

 _“_ Enter,” a cool voice sounded from behind the door.

Harry twisted the knob gracelessly and entered the room with cheerful “Good morning!”.

He paused to examine the mess.

The entire room was buried under old books. Stacks and stacks of heavy tomes were sitting on the floor. The right side of the bed was hidden underneath more books and Snape sat at a desk, filled with parchment and heavy tomes.

 _“_ Whoa,” Harry gasped.

He recalled Snape's house, buried under the similar amount of books. What happened? The last time he'd been there the room looked fine. Well, it truly did look like Snape was busy doing something. Harry placed the tray on the free space on the bed. The next option would be the floor, but who would eat their porridge off the floor?

 _“_ I've brought breakfast,” Harry said to the man's back.

 _“_ I'm busy Potter, I thought I've made it clear enough,” came the reply. Snape didn't even lift his head from the book he was reading.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I'm sure you can spare five minutes for a breakfast,” he said, voice flat.

 _“_ This day could only get brighter if you didn't presume to know what I need and when I need it,” said Snape, finally tearing his eyes from paper.

 _“_ Well, thanks to my presumptions, you won't go hungry,” Harry said patiently. “I've brought coffee.”

Snape tilted his head in interest, like a bird. He stood up from the chair and stretched his limbs. Harry stared at his long arms and legs and shivered when a deep moan escaped the man's lips. Snape sat on the bed beside Harry. He ignored the porridge (surprise, surprise!) and picked up the coffee and toast. At least Harry buttered the bread.

 _“_ What are these tomes for?” he asked curious.

 _“_ Research,” replied Snape shortly.

Harry rolled his eyes again at the man. Snape would have a fortune if it paid to be difficult.

 _“_ What are you researching?”

 _“_ Your condition.”

 _“_ Oh, wow,” Harry sighed surprised. All this for him? He looked at the books. Some were probably brought here from Spinner's End, but others must have come from the Grimmauld's library. Harry wondered if Snape wrote notes in any of them. “You really must think it's something serious.”

 _“_ It will get you killed Potter. That's the natural course the curse is going to take,” Snape said ruthlessly. Now that he was closer, Harry could see shadows under his eyes. The Potions Master looked tired.

 _“_ I'm sorry,” Harry scratched his ear absentmindedly. “I thought you were avoiding me.” Snape leveled him with a glare. “But you're really here, busy with all this stuff because of me.”

 _“_ Stop apologizing and leave me to my research,” the man said. He finished his toast and spelled the crumbs away.

 _“_ Any progress?”

 _“_ No,” then, “It seems that even Black's library isn't sufficient enough for something of this magnitude.” Snape's face both introspective and aggressive. He was almost... scared, Harry thought surprised.

 _“_ Maybe it's just my luck. Can't avoid Death too many times, it might hold a grudge,” Harry said with weak attempt at humor.

 _“_ Rest assured Mister Potter, if the case is indeed hopeless, you'll be first to know it,” warned the man.

 _“_ I guess I will be,” Harry replied. He suddenly felt very small. He wondered if he should tell Ron and Hermione about what was happening to him. Or other Order members. He imagined them worrying, seeking answers instead of moving on with their lives. He'd tell them, of course. As soon as he knew which curse it was, if he, indeed, was cursed in the first place.

Not now. Not yet.

Harry picked up the tray with porridge and an empty mug and left the room. Although he had seen Snape was busy with his own two eyes, he had the sneaking suspicion the man had avoided him for a different reason. His suspicion was confirmed when later in the day Snape had showed up for lunch. Whatever the man said, he had been hiding from Harry after being accused of jealousy.

 _“_ May I enquire why you haven't dedicated your time after the war to hunting the remaining Death Eaters?” Snape had asked out of the blue, while Harry was chewing his sandwich.

 _“_ Um... sure,” Harry said swallowing his food. “Mmm... Ron, Hermione and I had a tough year. We spent it hiding in a tent, in middle of the forest, freezing cold. I guess you're aware we were in a mad hunt after Horcruxes. We spent some days going hungry, we fought and I had to listen to Hermione being tortured in Malfoy Manor. I guess I really didn't feel like returning to that kind of life again.”

 _“_ You'd have an aid from the Ministry this time. Did you not harbor some desire for retribution? Or perhaps have a wish to exact vengeance?” the man goaded him.

 _“_ I am angry at them, sure,” Harry said slowly. “They've killed my friends and countless others. I know they're still dangerous, Snape, don't think I don't,” he took a sip from orange juice Kreacher served. “But there are other, more qualified people to handle the job. And I'm tired of fighting. I still want to be an Auror, don't get me wrong. But, for now, I want some distance from constant battling. And revenge... It's not something I ever wanted.”

 _“_ How noble of you,” Snape said, but he wasn't sneering.

 _“_ Well, I don't think the new Aurors in the Order liked me staying on the sidelines.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “It's to be expected. The hero chasing the Dark Lord's minions sounds better than battle worn champion.” The man's face turned grave, “I'd imagine you were also busy with the funerals.”

 _“_ That and sitting at your bedside,” Harry confirmed, taking another bite of his sandwich.

Snape turned to look at him. “I beg your pardon?”

 _“_ I was there at St. Mungos with you, until professor McGonagall hauled you away from my grasp,” Harry said amused.

Snape was astonished. “Why would you do such a thing?” he spluttered.

 _“_ Every moment I was worried you'd die on me, if I'm not there. There were so many funerals. I really couldn't bear the thought of one more. I would watch you every day and you got better. Sometimes it felt like that was because I kept looking. I even tried to persuade the nurse into teaching me how to change your bandages.” Harry confessed embarrassed. “Didn't work though, she chased me out of your ward with curses.”

Snape stared at him for a long time after this revelation. Harry started to feel funny under his gaze.

 _“_ You're a very strange child,” he said finally.

Harry put the last piece of sandwich in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “M'not you know,” he said after a while. Snape raised an eyebrow. “Not a child anymore. In fact, I'm eighteen in couple of days.”

The Potions Master sighed. “My students stay noisy little brats in my memory long after they've matured. I seldom want to have anything to do with them for this particular reason. There are always a couple of Slytherins over the year, who want to stay in touch. Or, alternatively, wish me to guide them in their academic career,” Snape rubbed his chin absentmindedly. “Teaching has never been a dream of mine, you realize. I've been placed in a position strategically, by both of my... Masters, shall we say. Once I've had to watch over the little menaces my students were, they've always stayed the unpleasant combination of loud, needy and lazy in my mind. Even after I've met them years later, I haven't been able to make myself socialize with them.”

I'm different, Harry thought, or you wouldn't kiss me back. “Please God, let me be right this once,” he added in a quick prayer.

They've finished their lunch and went separate ways. Snape returned to his books and Harry decided the place needed cleaning. He summoned the old elf and together they've worked on cleaning out the corridor, the dining room and the living room.

Snape's speech earlier caused him to see their relationship in a new light. If Harry had reservations from pursuing a closer... relationship with Snape, because he couldn't bear to compete with his mother for older man's affections, Snape, in turn, would probably be reluctant to date his former student. Harry was many things undesirable to the man – the son of his worst enemy, the son of his former flame, the Boy-Who-Lived. He was also the boy who Snape used to teach Potions to. Would the man ever see Harry as an equal?

Did it make him gay, Harry pondered as he dusted the old cabinet, wanting to kiss another man? Harry had fantasized about kissing and touching Snape a handful of times since he saw the man aroused in the bathroom. He thought about Snape's cock too. Imagined himself touching, _tasting_ , the man there, dropping on his knees before the man and teasing him, making him want Harry as much as Harry wanted him. The very thought of Snape aroused and wanting, make Harry's blood pump faster.

His knowledge of what two people got up to in the bedroom had came about in his third year, when Dean had shared his magazines with naked women and men, engaging in all sorts of sordid activities. Seamus and Ron were outraged the pictures didn't move. There was no equivalent of them published in old-fashioned Wizarding Word, at least not on the isles. He hadn't felt the same excitement over staring at exposed chest of models, as the guys he shared his dorm with. He wasn't repulsed, just indifferent. Oral sex back them seemed silly and awfully inconvenient. Where would the woman hide their teeth, he wondered.

Mopping the floor, Harry smiled gloomily at his old self. Now the thought of putting his mouth around somebody's cock, _Snape's cock_ , filled him with ugly craving. At night he lied there thinking about all the ways he could be touched by the man, fighting his own natural prudishness in the matters of flesh, imagining all sorts of improper things. He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked on them, getting delightful thrill out of it. He traced his hands all over his body and imagined them be Snape's fingers touching him. He wanted... he needed...

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud patter on the glass. Harry shook his head to chase away the dirty thoughts and went to the window. He looked at the owl. It had milky brown feathers and didn't remind him of Hedwig, but still something twinged in his gut. He really needed a new owl.

The owl was carrying a Daily Prophet tied together with letter. The Prophet featured a moving advertisement in the corner of the front page, showing a drawing: a Dementor sweeping away from a glowing rabbit. “LEARN HOW TO DEFEND YOURSELF AGAINST THE DEMENTORS! FREE!” it said in big letters. Harry was glad he gave his remaining galleons to Hermione, smiling at the paper. He opened the letter and read his friends neat writing.

The letter said the Weasleys were throwing him a birthday party at the Burrow on thirty first of july. He felt joy bubbling up in his chest. But the family didn't have the funds to throw him a party, he speculated. He read on and discovered Hermione had used his own galleons – what was left from advertisement, - to fund the party without telling Molly and Arthur. He smirked. Hermione really did think of everything. The DA members were invited, along with entire Weasley clan. Harry knew Neville's birthday was at the end of the summer too. He'd probably have to buy Neville a present too. He was out of money at the moment and needed to go to Gringotts.

A trip to Diagon Alley was in order.

 

***

 

They've arrived at the Burrow at twelve thirty. Half an hour earlier than his friend's invitation stated, but Harry wasn't worried. He wanted to help with preparations and not only just take part in the celebration. Unfortunately for him, Snape had wanted to get a rare book from Diagon and Harry had to wait there in the shop while the seller negotiated the price. Unnerved, Harry noticed a Deathly Hallows symbol on the front page. Snape had been so sure the book might help with discovering the nature of Harry's curse, he made Harry pay for it. Sixty galleons! In an acerbic voice the man had said to consider the book his birthday present. Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

They've been civil to each other these past few days, but nothing could erase the tension still thick in the air between them. Harry didn't notice how casually the man touched him, until Snape stopped going anywhere near him altogether. More times than he could count he felt Snape watching him instead. The man appeared nervous, burying himself in more books, as if making a library out his bedroom wasn't enough. Harry still wasn't sure if he was cursed or not. He was skeptical about the effort the older man made to protect him from something so nebulous.

The burrow had about a dozen round tables out in the garden. The area was fenced off by thin wooden poles, string banners in the shape of lightning bolts hanging between them. Harry huffed in secret pleasure and looked at Snape's reaction. The man hardly noticed the decorations. He was still withdrawn and closed off. When Harry offered for man to stay and wait for him in Grimmauld Place, Snape objected vehemently. Harry wanted him to come but he was sure the Potions Master wanted to join the party only to keep an eye on Harry, not to celebrate with others.

He noticed a sole redhead figure out in the garden. Ron was already stuffing himself on buffet tables. Harry chuckled. He called his name and waved at his friend.

 _“_ Ally!” Ron cheered with his mouth full.

 _“_ Ron, where's everybody?” asked Harry.

 _“_ Happy Birthday mate!” Ron gave him a firm pat on the back. “Mr. Snape,” he nodded at the man. “Well, mum is putting frosting on the cake, Ginny and Hermione are helping. It was mad house here with all the homework and cooking. Mum and George had a fight and he went to go and fly, to cool off. Percy won't arrive until it's lunch time and will only stay for an hour. Bill and Fleur can't come,” his friend listed. “Something about a great grandma of Fleur dying, they had to portkey to France. Dad is at the Ministry, he'll apparate here with Percy.”

 _“_ Did Mrs. Weasley made it all herself?” Harry asked pointing at the buffet.

 _“_ Only about a third of it. The rest Hermione ordered in Plymouth, the muggle part, apparently it's cheaper that way. Let me tell you, mum wasn't too happy about it. Oh, I forgot! Neville's here, he showed up early.”

The door to the house opened in that moment, revealing a formally dressed Neville. He had a smudge of frosting on his cheek and half of his t-shirt was untucked. He saw Harry and Snape standing there and beamed. He made his way to his friends, glancing fearfully at Snape.

 _“_ Harry, Professor Snape,” he greeted.

 _“_ I'm no longer your Professor, Longbottom,” shook his head the older man.

 _“_ Oh, right! Um... well, I'm glad to see you're okay, sir. Harry has told everyone you have... mmm, been on our side all along. I'm...uh, I mean I'm sorry we bought you so much trouble the last year. We didn't know,” Neville bit his lip searching for words. “I think what you did was really brave, sir... Err...”

Snape interrupted the boy with a flick of his wand. Neville shirt tucked itself in his pants and the man smirked. Neville went red in the face and Harry threw a warning glance in Snape's direction.

 _“_ Believe, Mr. Longbottom, I hold no grudge towards your little rebellion. I must say I was surprised by the resilience of your group, and your personal valor in resisting the Carrows,” Snape said pleasantly. Harry's shoulders relaxed.

 _“_ Thank you, sir,” smiled the boy. He looked at Harry and yelped. “Oh, I forgot! Happy Birthday, Harry.”

 _“_ Thanks Neville,” grinned Harry. “Your birthday is at the end of the summer also, innit?” Snape threw him a sharp glance.

 _“_ It was yesterday actually,” said the boy shyly.

 _“_ Neville!” Ron threw his hands in the air, outraged. “Why didn't you say so, you egg?! Happy Birthday!”

 _“_ We've got you a present,” Snape threw another annoyed glance in Harry's direction. Oops, probably shouldn't have used a “we” there, Harry thought. “Here,” he thrust a colorful box in the direction of the boy.

Neville opened the present immediately, tearing the wrapping paper. His eyes shone.

 _“_ A tool kit for taking care of rare magical plants,” he read. “I saw it in Diagon Alley. Very thoughtful gift, Harry.”

Snape was looking at Harry again, his eyes soft. Harry brushed his hand against Snape's wrist discreetly. At least Snape looked like he was present this time and not distracted, his mind floating miles away.

One by one the garden filled with Harry's friends. Snape had abandoned his place by Harry's side and sat in distant corner, scowling at everyone who came close. Once Arthur Weasley apparated into the clearing and greeted everyone, Snape had approached him, capturing his attention. Harry overheard the man interrogating Mr. Weasley about the wards around his property. The more Arthur spoke, the gloomier Snape's face had become.

Most people showed up dressed casually, only Luna, Neville and Patil twins wore something formal. Luna was dressed in pretty blue dress, that shimmered in the sun. She was apparently fond of such fabric. Parvati was wearing a blue sari and Padma was wearing a purple one. Hermione was wearing jeans and tee, but had her hair tamed in a neat bun. She congratulated Harry with a hug, smiling brightly.

“Oi, Harry! Whose idea was it to teach people the Patronus charm?” asked Lee Jordan.

“You can thank Hermione for that,” laughed Harry.

“It's not like I've got anything to do anyway. My lessons at uni start only at fall,” told them Dean.

“Man, it's so odd to be part of Dumbledore's Army... I've never even attended the meetings. I can't conjure a Patronus,” complained Seamus.

“That's because you were an ass to Harry,” deadpanned George.

Everybody laughed, while Seamus's cheeks turned red. “Not complaining or anything. It had been fun taking care of kids and hunting a real Basilisk,” he said.

“By the way George, when are you opening the shop again?” yelled Cho from buffet.

“It's been open for an entire week already, Ravenclaw,” George shouted indignant. “Try to keep up with the news!”

Neville froze. He eyed the table with the food suspiciously.

“You haven't put anything in the food, have you?” he asked weakly.

Harry scooped some bright orange paste from a table and sent in to his mouth. It tasted very spicy, but he liked it. He observed his friends, listening them yell at each other, happy to be in their company again. Hermione approached him and put her hand on his shoulder. She rested her chin on her hand and Harry smiled at the casual display of affection. He'd missed her terribly, he found.

 _“_ Want to tell me why Snape is all but throwing daggers at me every time I go near you?”

 _“_ Well...” started Harry.

He was interrupted by a barrage of red spells flying into the garden. Somebody screamed, pointing at something in the distance. Harry's wand jumped in his hands, his posture alert. A dozen cloaked figures in masks were running towards the garden. But instead of Death Eater masks they wore plain white masks, that only covered half their face. Hermione conjured a Patronus and dictated a message to it in clipped voice, before sending it off. After the initial shock passed, the DA members were casting spells back at the attackers.

 _“_ Kill Potter!” screamed the leader.

Harry made an attempt to move, but was yanked back by Hermione's hand.

 _“_ Where are going?” she hissed.

 _“_ They want _me_ , I'm going to chase them away,” he whispered furiously. “These are not the real Death Eaters, Hermione, look at their masks.”

Hermione nodded and released his hand. His friend mouthed, “Be careful.”

Harry went running. He disarmed a hooded figure on his way and sent Locomotor Mortis towards the man, locking his legs together. It didn't stop the person from shrieking “Potter!” at the top of his lungs. All the attention from the mock Death Eaters was immediately drawn to him. Good, Harry thought, follow me.

He was running away from the garden and the Burrow, through the high grass, sending curses over his shoulders at the men who chased him. When their curses started to reach him he shielded himself. He was out of breath. He felt the sweat run into his eyes and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. His thighs were burning. He was near the apparition barrier! He prepared to apparate away, but stumbling over nothing, he toppled and went crashing into a puddle, catching an angry red curse.

White hot pain pierced his body. He'd recognize the effect of Cruciatus even if he was confunded. He screamed from shock, but did not let go of his wand. Even through the pain Harry saw a figure in black robes appear near him.

 _“_ Harry!” someone gasped breathlessly.

He recognized that voice! He was cradled gently in Snape's arms and he felt the curse lift. His muscles relaxed and he sucked in a ragged breath. The older man raised his body over ground and he felt him run. The last thing Harry remembered was the familiar pull of apparition and a green curse drawing near him. It hit him square in the head.

Snape apparated into a muggle driveway of Privet Drive. He shook the body in his hands violently.

 _“_ Come on Potter, the spell hasn't reached you. Wake up!”

The body in his hands didn't even flinch.

 _“_ Wake up!” an anguished voice choked.

Harry watched from the sideline as Snape kneeled on the road, laying him over his thighs. He cradled Harry's body in his arms, rocking him gently. The man's face had drained of all the color. He was still pleading Harry to wake up.

Wait, Harry thought. This wasn't right! He was reminded of his third year, watching his own body from outside.

He wasn't... was he?

 _“_ Severus?” his voice trembled. “Severus!” he repeated loudly.

The man didn't react. A frightening sense over foreboding overtook him.

He was, wasn't he.

Dead.

He felt grief tear its claws through his chest. He swore crudely and felt himself fall, until he was sitting on the pavement, distant observer of his own fate. He pulled at his hair in anger. This couldn't be happening. Not again. He did what everyone wanted him too, didn't he? It was too soon, he hadn't had the time... He closed his eyes in defeat.

When he opened them again there was someone standing beside him. They were dressed in magnificent black robes that had flown around their body, curling like mist. Robes that sparkled like the stars in the night sky. The familiar cold feeling penetrated Harry – this was a figure he saw in his dreams! The danger that loomed over him, creeping closer and closer. Ancient and timeless, they stood before him and Harry was overcome with dread. They reminded Harry of a Dementor and yet not. Taller, thinner, the fabric around them delicate and rich.

A tranquil female voice greeted him. “Hello, Harry Potter,” it said. The sound echoed around, as if they were in large ballroom or a cave. The figure moved its hands as she spoke. Except instead of flesh, the hands were simple bare bones. White, polished and graceful. A surreal feeling overcame Harry. He pinched himself. Then again. He felt like he was in a dream.

He felt amusement radiate from his new acquaintance.

 _“_ Hello,” said Harry dumbly. “I'm dead, aren't I?”

 _“_ Yes, Harry Potter, at the moment,” came the calm reply.

A sense of hopelessness pinned Harry to the ground. It's all been futile, he thought, his attempts at trying to live, to help the Wizarding World. Him kissing the man he wanted. Him falling in love. Harry's eyes stung, but he refused to cry. Slowly, shakily he lifted himself from the ground and looked the woman in the eye.

Or the darkness that the hood of her cloak covered.

 _“_ And you're.. You're Death aren't you?” he asked directly.

 _“_ I have many names, but Death, Sǐwáng, Maut, Smert is what your kind calls me,” the melodic cadence of the voice soothed the pain Harry felt at the thought of never seeing his friends again.

He was silent for a moment. How foolish he was to think he could avoid his fate? Snape had tried to help him, to prevent this from happening and Harry took his efforts with distrust and indifference. He threw a glance at himself and the man. Snape had stopped rocking Harry's body, but otherwise made no attempt to stand up. Harry's chest ached with desire to return.

 _“_ I guess the curse was real,” he said, mouth bitter around the truth.

Death tilted her head, like a bird. Harry swallowed. The gesture reminded him of Snape.

 _“_ The curse that was trying to kill me,” he elaborated.

 _“_ Ah,” the woman says, scratching her head. “But Harry Potter, there was no curse trying to kill you. I was simply trying to arrange a meeting.”

 _“_ I was dead just a couple of month ago, could you not meet me then?” asked Harry annoyed.

 _“_ You were not dead, just simply in between the worlds. I've tried meeting you since you've stepped into the Forest of Dean. I did not account for your luck to protect you from me for so long,” the woman articulated every word with her bony hands. “It has been... frustrating. Nudging you here and there, I've had to observe you very closely and my time is precious. I do not make a habit of following mortals and... hunting for them. I only need to bring them relief, when the time is right.”

 _“_ Why go to all this trouble?” Harry wondered.

He felt a smile form on his companions face, though he hadn't seen it. She stepped around him, circling him like a shark. Harry noticed her figure didn't cast a shadow. He shuddered. Death finally came to standstill in front of him, her fingertips each connected with its counterpart, making a triangle.

 _“_ You possess something I want gone from this world, now and forever,” a voice replied gravely.

A sharp sense of apprehension squirmed in Harry's stomach. He knew wielding powerful objects had a price of its own. He never thought he'd pay it so early in his life. He'd thought he had done the right thing with the objects, which came into his possession, but now... Now he understood what a fool he was.

 _“_ The Deathly Hallows,” he stated openly.

A wave of shimmer passed through the Death's robes, shining beautifully. Harry only ever saw diamonds in aunt Petunia's earrings, but the display reminded him strongly of them. He felt a sense of satisfaction radiate from the woman. He guessed correct.

 _“_ But Resurrection Stone is lost in woods and the Elder Wand is buried in Dumbledore's Tomb. They're all but gone from the world,” Harry argued confused.

 _“_ What is lost shall be found again. That is simply the fate of my treasures,” the sadness imbued the voice.

 _“_ But what can I do?”

 _“_ I would like a favor from you, Harry Potter,” the figure made a couple of steps pacing back and forth, as she spoke. “I want all three of my gifts destroyed.”

Harry didn't understand. He was dead. How could he be of any help to anybody like that?

 _“_ You killed me just to ask me a favor?” he crossed his arms in front of him, skeptical.

Death mirrored the gesture and lifted her chin. Was she... giving him an attitude? Or teasing him? Harry stared stupidly. When she failed to get a reaction from him, her posture relaxed a bit, clearly disappointed and she spoke, her voice kind.

 _“_ You shall be brought back,” Harry sucked in breath, his heart beating madly. “It's not your time yet.”

Relief flooded his senses. He lifted his eyes towards a cloudy sky and thanked fervently whomever that was out there, looking out for him. Half-hysterical, a giggle escaped his lips.

He felt a little unbalanced.

This wasn't permanent!

Harry looked at Snape's figure, still sitting on concrete. The sight sobered him up instantly.

 _“_ And I guess if I refuse I'll be back among the dead?” he spoke business-like, but the cheer was still evident in his voice.

 _“_ No, you would be not,” the Death announced. “It's simply a favor I ask, something in return for my kindness,” her right hand pointed as Severus.

The Death made her way to the man, who was clutching Harry's body and whispering inaudibly. Harry followed silently. Shifting, he saw he hadn't cast a shadow either. Snape's eyes were withdrawn, unfocused. Harry wanted nothing more, than to go back and set his mind at ease.

 _“_ Do you see this man, Harry Potter?”

He nodded. “Severus.”

His fearsome companion inclined her head. “His time, unlike yours has run out. His destiny was to die on the floor of an old house you call the Shrieking Shack. But I've gifted him with time. The most precious gift of them all,” Harry listened intently, his eyes avoiding the sight of his own body in the Potions Master's hands. “As long as you live, he shall breathe and wander this Earth just like any other human.”

 _“_ You... Resurrected him?”

 _“_ No,” she shook her head slightly. “I simply would not intervene to take back what's mine.”

Harry understood now, what the woman meant by referring to her kindness. She spared Snape's life. Harry tried to imagine what his life would be like if the man hadn't survived. He couldn't. Didn't want to. He refused to consider the possibility.

The woman bent close to Snape's face, as if listening in.

 _“_ Do you know what he whispers, Harry Potter?” she asked, standing up straight. “His life for mine,” she murmured capturing Snape's tone and voice perfectly.

Harry swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. His heart ached in his chest.

 _“_ I can make the deal now, that's how I know he means it,” she commented sounding like herself again. “Very curious life he'd had. I've waited long and true to take him. But I could wait more,” a shimmer went through her clothes again. Harry figured it betrayed her excitement. “Did you know,” her calm voice went an octave higher, “he's cursed with an affliction for you?” Harry brows drew together in confusion. His eyed darted momentarily to the two people, sitting on the ground. “I believe you mortals call it love.”

Harry stood there, hands hanging limply against his sides, stunned speechless.

 _“_ I... He can't, he is...” the boy spluttered.

 _“_ Very much in love,” confirmed the woman.

He _loves_ me back. I can’t believe it.

 _“_ Of all the people who died in the battle, you've chosen to save him,” Harry whispered troubled. He touched his scar briefly, even in death, he carried it with him. “You knew I'd... That he would be... important to me.”

 _“_ I place my bets providently.”

 _“_ You'll return me then? You've said it yourself it's not my time,” Harry straightened his spine.

 _“_ Very few mortals have seen me. I trust your discretion,” the woman spread her arms and a long scythe appeared in her right hand. The sharp blade shone, when there was no sun. Its shaft was made of dark wood.

 _“_ You don't need to worry.”

 _“_ A favor, Harry Potter,” reminded him the tall figure. Harry nodded.

The Death stepped right in front of him and the scythe flung above his head and came to a stop before it touched him. The tip of the blade caressed the skin between Harry's eyes and a sharp pain pierced his head. The world went white around the edges and the next thing he knew he was bathed in a comforting scent and the ordinary sounds of a quiet street.

He was lying on Snape's knees, his face buried in the man's chest. Like a child's lullaby, the man's scent surrounded and soothed him. Snape was chanting under his breath, still. Harry's hand was clasped in Snape's hand. He squeezed the fingers gently, but it got him no reaction.

 _“_ Severus,” Harry croaked.

The man jerked violently, his eyes finding Harry's face.

 _“_ Alive!” the man rasped.

 _“_ Couldn't stay dead.” Harry said softly, bleeding from affection. “You'd miss me too much.”

The man looked utterly disoriented. “This shouldn't be possible.”

 _“_ You know me, always defying the odds,” Harry tried a coy smile.

Snape's eyes narrowed. “You've done something,” he accused. “I don't know how, but...”

Harry interrupted. “Isn't it enough for me to be alive?” the boy reason calmly. He wasn't ready to reveal the truth yet.

Snape's expression mellowed by a fraction.

Harry made an attempt to stand up. He was quickly caught, his attempt contained. Snape looked at him worriedly, but helped him to get up, when Harry mouthed “I'm fine” at him.

 _“_ We need to go back and check on others,” the boy said anxiously.

 _“_ You're not going anywhere,” dismissed the man. “This is safest place for you, Potter. You'll hide in that crazy cat lady's house and wait.”

 _“_ And you?”

 _“_ I'm going back,” spoke Snape impatiently, as if speaking to a child.

 _“_ Like hell you are!” Harry cried.

 _“_ We don't know if you could be trusted with staying alive. The curse...” started the man.

Harry interrupted. “I'm not cursed anymore.”

Snape eyed him suspiciously. “How would you know?”

 _“_ Err...” Harry wavered. “M'not. Just... Trust me on this. I'm not.”

 _“_ Charming,” sneered the older man. Harry winced.

 _“_ Let's go. The sooner you'll get to the Burrow, the sooner we'll know if anybody has been hurt,” Harry walked to Mrs. Figg's house in determined stride. Severus followed him closely behind. They had apparated only three houses down the road from Mrs. Figg's home. Harry opened the door with Alohamora and stepped inside. He was greeted by the loud meowling.

 _“_ Right, I'm gonna feed the bastards. Hermione said the DA have schedule to feed them, but I doubt anyone coming in today,” Harry said looking over his shoulder.

Snape was silent. He was still pale, Harry noticed.

 _“_ God, I think Mr. Chubbs has gotten even fatter,” worried the boy, stroking the large white cat.

The Potions Master hasn't responded.

 _“_ Maybe I should leave a note and ask others to give him less cat food. What do you think?”

Snape sniffed wetly.

Harry turned around, concerned. “Severus?”

The man quickly wiped his nose with his sleeve. Harry approached him carefully and tugged on his cuff. “Hey,” he cooed gently. “It's alright. I'm okay.” Snape, in turn, drew the boy closer and took Harry's face in his hands. They were shaking. Soft fingertips stroked Harry's temples. He looked at Harry and something turbulent passed in his hard black eyes. Snape lowered his face and his hair had tickled Harry's jaw. Then the man kissed Harry, desperate and hard. Harry's glasses smashed painfully into the bridge of his nose. Snape's tongue traced Harry's front teeth and licked inside his mouth. A raw sound escaped Harry's throat. Snape drew him in a kiss again, his lips needy. His fingers caressed Harry's earlobes and Snape broke away only to take one in his mouth. Harry squirmed from arousal; he'd never thought a hot wet mouth on his ear could feel like this.

More composed Snape took Harry's hands in his own and kissed his knuckles. Then Harry's nose, the corner of his mouth. Calmer now, he withdrew, his eyes no longer full of volatile emotion. Harry cock wept with precum in his pants. He had a wild though of drawing Snape into the bedroom upstairs. He was trembling with want and longing.

 _“_ Stay here,” the Potions Master rasped. “Don't find yourself another trouble.”

The man turned away and left in a hurry. Harry blinked owlishly. Snape had escaped him again. What would it take to corner the man? A rope and an army? Currently Harry was in possession on neither of those.

He was hard and he'd had a quick thought of going to the bathroom to have a wank, but he quickly dismissed it. Snape's kiss made him forget the fear in his gut, when he'd thought about the fate of his friends. But now that the man had left, that anxious feeling was returning again.

Harry fed the cats and turned on the TV to pass the time. The video player was gone and Harry looked around the house, his gaze travelling from surface to surface. It was pretty dusty. He'd have to come and clean the house before Mrs. Figg's return. It was the least he could do. He waited for half an hour, before he heard the front door click open softly. He bolted towards the intruder, wand in hand.

 _“_ Everyone's alive and well, you may stop worrying,” came the familiar voice.

 _“_ Ron and Hermione?”

 _“_ Safe and unharmed,” Snape appeared in front of him. Some color had returned to his face.

 _“_ The Death Eaters?” clarified Harry.

 _“_ Caught only few. The rest are trailed by the Order and the Aurors.”

The man watched as Harry stepped through the front door, his jaw set. “I'm going to help them.”

Snape caught him by the arm, his grip sure and tight. “You will do no such thing,” he snarled.

 _“_ They're in danger,” Harry tried to free his arm from Snape's grip, but the man wouldn't let go of him.

 _“_ This is no inner circle, Potter, these were very young and stupid wannabees led by Rosier, who, may I inform you, has been caught. They present no danger to the Aurors or Order members. They will be caught and brought to justice.”

Harry hesitated and Snape continued. “You'll do no one a favor by putting yourself in danger. These are professionals, Potter. You'll only stand in their way. It would be simply a game of tracing one desperate apparition to the next. Tell me, do you possess the ability to assist an Auror with that?”

Harry shook his head. Snape relaxed, releasing his arm. Harry rubbed the place where Snape's hand was a moment ago. He knew Snape was worried about him. Now, after what Death had told, he even suspected why. But that didn't mean Snape was wrong about him chasing the mock Death Eaters.

 _“_ Was Rosier the one who tried to kill me?”

 _“_ They were all there to kill you, but yes, I believe he was. But not try – he did kill you,” Snape voice had gained a desperate edge to it. “You had no pulse, you didn't move, you didn't breathe. I held you in my arms, I had no hope you'll come back again...” Snape choked.

 _“_ Severus,” Harry took a step towards the older man. “I'm here.”

The man looked at him with doubt, as if he couldn't quite believe what his eyes were telling him.

 _“_ I do not know how to bear these feelings, Potter,” Snape whispered passionately and his dark gaze traveled aimlessly about the corridor. “I do not.”

Harry heart had overflown with deep fondness and love. His hands reached behind Snape's neck and he brought the man's head to rest against his own. His fingers played with the soft strands of black hair and Snape's hands rested on the small of his back. They stood like this, foreheads pressed together and the last remnants of Harry's despair faded. He felt Snape's breath on his face, so close to pressing their lips together. And Harry wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. But Snape's eyes flickered open and he drew back.

 _“_ I believe you were eager to go back to your friends,” he said. His fingers traced the hem of Harry's shirt. Harry tried to crush the soft curl of desire in his stomach.

He touched Snape's shoulder. “Together.”

 _“_ Yes, well, you're still my appointed guardian.”

They've apparated from inside of house, bodies pressed closely together.

Second time this day Harry walked to the Burrow. He didn't feel the warm anticipation bubbling in his stomach this time. Only the guilt of ruining what should have been a joyful afternoon to the guests and the Weasleys. With dread he observed the overturned tables and the food, half of which rested on the grass now. He knocked at the door. It flew open a moments later and two mops of hair clouded his vision. Ron and Hermione rushed in to hug him.

 _“_ Harry! I'm so glad you're all right,” Hermione cried right in his ear. Harry winced from the loud sound.

 _“’_ Mione, you're yelling in my ear,” Harry laughed.

 _“_ Oh, sorry,” she said, now quietly.

 _“_ Glad to see you still walking, mate,” Ron said with wide grin.

 _“_ Don't just stand doorway, let Harry in,” a voice from the house yelled. Harry recognized Mrs. Weasley.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in the kitchen together. Harry saw that Mr. Weasley was calmly dipping the vegetables in sauce and sending them in his mouth. Mrs. Weasley stood next to him, she smiled warmly at Harry. Harry started to apologize for drawing danger to their home.

 _“_ You've got nothing to apologise for,” Mrs. Weasley hugged him, patting him on the head. Harry blushed and breathed in the scent of vanilla cake, that clung to the woman. She was always so kind to him.

Snape took a chair and sat at the table, nodding at Arthur. Ron and Hermione did the same.

Mr. Weasley turned to face him. “We were afraid of the worst Harry, that awful man swore he hit you with Avada.”

 _“_ We didn't want to believe him Harry, but he was very convincing,” said Mrs. Weasley. She looked at Snape with warm smile. “Thank you, Severus.”

 _“_ Molly?” the man looked up confused.

 _“_ You saved him. If you hadn't apparated the boy in time, we would be morning another son right now,” Arthur spoken in a soft voice.

 _“_ Mr. Weasley!” Harry gasped shocked. Something huge and fiery swelled in his chest, and he swallowed the emotion. Harry looked at Ron, but his friend didn't look angry or put out.

 _“_ It's true, my dear,” Molly confirmed. “Now, there's some good news. We haven't taken the cake out, when these monsters attacked. Would you like a cake, Harry?”

The cake had three levels, it was decorated in red and yellow, Gryffindor colors. The top had a yellow snitch and Harry instantly wanted to know what it was made of. It turned out the golden ball was nothing, but icing. Harry swallowed the piece he bit off, a little disappointed with the discovery. Mrs. Weasley had made them tea and Hermione sighed sadly into her cup.

 _“_ I was looking forward to seeing you teach the Patronus charm once more, but now it's too dangerous for you to meet with other wizards.”

 _“_ Hermione,” Harry said a little peeved. “This was just one attack. It's not like the Death Eaters are gonna know about my whereabouts, the advertisement in the Prophet doesn't say “Hey, you might be taught by The Boy Who Lived!”

 _“_ No, Harry, Hermione is right. You need to stay low, at least for a little while.”

 _“_ Thanks for the support, Ron.”

 _“_ Sorry, mate.”

 _“_ Look, all the Death Eaters have been caught. These were not real Death Eaters, who attacked your home, Ron.” Harry mumbled through a particularly tasty piece of cake. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he added.

 _“_ Don't worry. Maybe we'll just ask the people in our study group to be discreet?” offered his read headed friend.

 _“_ Well, we can ask them to take an oath,” added Hermione.

 _“_ No oaths!” Harry cried.

Half an hour later Snape looked at his sour face and raised two perfect eyebrows at him.

 _“_ Why the sudden change in the mood?”

Harry told him about Hermione worrying about his safety and treacherous Ron taking her side. They walked through a field and Harry took deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of glass. He was happy to be alive.

 _“_ There's something I need to do today. And I want you to be there with me,” Harry told Snape.

Harry waited in the darkness of Grimmauld's Place until the clock on the mantel reached midnight. Then he dressed in his most comfortable jeans and a light jumper. He took his invisibility cloak and walked to Snape's door. He knocked and the door opened to him, without a sound, revealing the room still buried in books. The room smelt of of dust and coffee. Snape sat at one of the tables, writing something. There were two empty mugs on the table. He put down his feather and turned to Harry.

 _“_ To what do I owe the pleasure of your company at this hour?” the man drawled pleasantly.

It suddenly occurred to Harry, he could be seeking Snape's company under the cover of the night, for very different reason. The temptation was there. To abandon his task for a day more and go into the hands of the man he desired. The lines around Snape's mouth have been more pronounced, betraying his tension. Harry wanted nothing more to make them go away, to ease the strain from the man's shoulders. It was an already long day, surely they could delay dealing with anything else?

Harry shook himself from such thoughts. He could not risk Snape's life. Sure, Death had only asked for favor, but who's to say she wouldn't change her mind about taking Snape's life? If he failed to meet her expectations, if he lost Severus... He couldn't bear the thought alone, not to mention dealing with the real loss.

 _“_ I need your help.”

 

***

 

They've apparated close to Hogwarts's grounds together. It was a clear and starry night. Harry slipped the Invisibility Cloak to cover both of them. Even though Snape was tall, the cloak was long enough to could cover him from head to toe. Coupled with Harry, however, it revealed the soles of their boots. They had to crouch together, uncomfortably close. It took only couple of steps, when it became apparent that they would be walking at snail's pace.

 _“_ Is this secrecy truly necessary?” huffed the older man vexed.

 _“_ Yes! I don't want anyone following us to the forest.”

Slowly, but steadily they've reached the the gates, and they allowed them in with no trouble. Their bodies kept bumping into each other – a familiar sensation from the days he shared the cloak with his friends. Harry could tell it inconvenienced Snape greatly to walk crouching. He also discovered it wasn't altogether unpleasant to be touching the man, whenever they walked. He could smell the coffee on the man's robes, along with his own unique scent and a faint notes of lilacs.

Hogwarts stood great and magnificent in the moonlight. It was fully repaired, no sign of the battle. The grass had grown evenly on the grounds, nothing to remind him about the scorched earth and broken bodies.

 _“_ How many times this bloody cloak eluded me,” Snape spoke after they were halfway there. “I can't quite believe I'm making this foolish display of secrecy beneath its cover.”

 _“_ You've almost caught me with it enough,” chuckled Harry.

 _“_ Did I? Perhaps later you can share those stories with me,” whispered the man right in Harry's ear, making him shiver.

The rest of the walk went quietly. They've found themselves on the edge of the forest and Harry moved right ahead, trying to follow the path he walked on the day of the battle. It was harder to move between the trees, locked shoulder to shoulder, beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Heavy scent of moss and tree bark penetrated Harry's senses. Some trees had already been touched by impending autumn, their leaves untimely yellow. Harry looked back at the castle – he couldn't make out even an outline of its towers, because of the trees.

 _“_ I think it's safe to take this off now,” the boy reached and pulled the cloak from the older man. Snape's hair got mussed and static crackled as Harry pulled the cloak through Snape's hair.

 _“_ Potter,” Snape barked. “I could've pulled that off myself, instead of dragging the damn thing over my head!”

 _“_ Sorry, sorry,” Harry pulled Snape's electrified hair out of his face, which earned him a glare. Harry couldn't help but to lightly trace the tips of his fingers along Snape's jaw. Snape's skin had light stubble and Harry's stomach warmed with desire.

 _“_ Well, we're at the place,” said the man completely oblivious. “Please don't let me keep you from your quest.”

 _“_ Right,” Harry said, trying to focus. He raised his wand. “Accio, Resurrection Stone!”

Nothing happened. Snape turned to him awestruck.

 _“_ Resurrection Stone? The Resurrection Stone, Potter?” he questioned, eyes wide. “One of the Deathly Hallows?”

Harry's shoulders slumped. “Of course you know about them,” he muttered under his breath.

 _“_ Don't change the subject!”

 _“_ Well,” Harry paused. “Yeah, that Stone,” he delivered sheepishly.

 _“_ And you've tried to summon it here? Something must be wrong with your head,” Snape intoned nastily.

 _“_ You don't understand,” Harry grunted, as he resumed walking. He lit up his wand and saw Snape do the same. He was sure this was where his path went, when he walked into the forest the last time _._ But back then there was no grass, no flowers, certainly no leaves scattered about. This was an end of summer and Harry felt his unease rise. “We just have to search it on the ground. I walked this path when Voldemort summoned me.”

Snape followed couple of steps behind him. “You've never mentioned the Stone when you told me about your stroll into the Forbidden Forest,” the man said in an odd voice.

 _“_ It was a secret.”

 _“_ I see,” Snape said again in that odd voice, but now he also sounded sad. “Your friends, I presume, are aware of this.”

 _“_ Yes,” Harry confirmed awkwardly. Snape was just as important to him, as his friends were. But he didn't know how the man would react to the tale of Deathly Hallows, so he kept that information from him. He figured the man now thought Harry didn't trust him. Not fully. “Look, I'm sorry...”

 _“_ What changed?” the man interrupted.

 _“_ If everything goes according to plan, it won't matter who knows about them,” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose, as if it would help him see better. “Look out for a small grey stone.”

 _“_ A stone Potter?” mocked the man derisively. “In forest?”

Harry sighed. Even he knew the futility of their search. “It doesn't look like a common rock, it's polished and shaped like a jewel.”

They went deeper and deeper into the forest, but the path they took looked less and less familiar to Harry. The forest was full of different sounds, some more disquieting than others. The quiet rustling, the crickets chirping, the occasional owl and distant howls. Harry kept walking in circles, lighting the ground beneath him and trying to get a hint where he was supposed to be going.

Snape soon tired of the routine. “This is useless, Potter,” he commented. “What if the stone doesn't want to be found?”

Harry looked around himself and took a leap of faith. “A little help here?” he yelled into the darkness.

Snape was onto him in a moment. “Quiet!” he hissed. “Do you want every stray werewolf to hear you? What was that display supposed to accomplish?”

 _“_ I'm just asking for a little help,” Harry took a notice of peculiar tree. “Wait! I remember those branches. I think I've walked somewhere here.” He circled the tree in question a couple of times and moved to the next. “I think I dropped it somewhere here.”

 _“_ No, I don't think you did,” came the distant reply.

 _“_ Yes, I'm telling you, it supposed to be somewhere here!” Harry yelled stubbornly. He squatted and tried to find the stone underneath the flower bush. He abandoned his task after five minutes and looked around, his eyes searching for Snape. His worry peaked. He couldn’t see the man anywhere.

 _“_ Snape, Snape!” Harry shouted. “Where have you gone?”

There was no reply. Harry stood up and tried not to let panic overtake him. “Severus!”

The man walked out of the darkness, holding a beautiful flower.

 _“_ Here,” he gave Harry the flower and the boy took it without thinking. “What is the flower Mr. Potter?”

Harry inspected the plant. It had delicate long purple petals with golden specks. “Hey! I recognize it. These flowers bloomed all over the Dean forest when we first arrived. It's supposed to bloom on the graves of wizards.”

 _“_ Powerful wizards, Potter” Snape corrected. “Potens Mortis is the name. And I doubt there's a wizard buried where I found it.”

Harry lit up like Christmas tree. This could be a clue! “Where'd you find it?” he asked excitedly.

 _“_ Follow me.”

They've walked back towards the edge of the forest and stopped shortly. Harry saw it from a couple feet away. A bed of flowers, curling in a spiral with clear edges, as if it was planted by design. It was the size of dinner table.

Harry snorted. “Subtle.”

 _“_ Someone is trying to aid you in your cause, Potter,” Snape rolled his eyes at him. “Don't be rude.”

Harry crouched and started to search for the stone. He was careful not to tear the flowers, not willing to disturb the magic that was afoot here. He shined the light from his wand on the ground. He searched the edges of the spiral, but didn't find anything. He eyed the middle of the arrangement. Could it be so obvious? Harry put his hand right at the center and fumbled his hand around.

Almost immediately his fingers found the cool defined edges of a stone. He lifted it from the ground and stared and it. It was exactly as Harry remembered it, small and polished. It looked so insignificant in his hand. He remembered the shadows of his parents surrounding him. Were they real or only the magic's illusion?

 _“_ Resurrection Stone,” Snape noted. Doubt was heavy in his voice. “Well, you've found it. I hope you're not foolish enough to use it.”

 _“_ We're not finished yet.”

Snape didn't ask to take a look at the Stone when they resumed their walk, now in direction of the castle. He didn't seem all that interested, but Harry was convinced the man still doubted the Stone was real. They reached the edge of the forest and Harry put the invisibility cloak back on him and Snape.

The next task was difficult. Harry had a plan, but he didn't know how his companion would react to what they needed to do next. They walked at excruciatingly slow pace, but finally reached the tomb. The white marble shined in the moonlight. The tomb has been repaired after Voldemort cracked it, a heavy marble lid rested on the top. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. He was surprised to discover the Potens Mortis bloomed around the grave as well. The bed of flowers had the similar shape, a spiral. Harry fought his unease.

 _“_ Why are we here?” asked Snape, his body hard and rigid next to Harry's.

 _“_ Let's take this thing off,” Harry said instead of answering directly. They tugged on the cloak together and it came off easily. The boy's hands caressed the precious material. This was the only thing left to him from his father. Harry didn't care for galleons in Gringotts, but the cloak – it aided him countless times. He couldn't believe what he was about to do.

 _“_ Wingardium Leviosa!”

The lid groaned under the strain, but did not move from its place.

 _“_ Potter!” Snape barked startled. “What are you up to?!”

 _“_ I need your help,” Harry said defeated.

 _“_ It's not enough I kill the man and then take his position!” the older man shouted, frantic. “You want me to desecrate his grave?” He turned and marched out of the clearing. “Go to hell, Potter!”

 _“_ The tomb has the Elder Wand!” Harry yelled, hoping the rapidly departing figure would hear him.

Snape stopped. He stood motionless, for what was eternity in Harry's estimation. Then he turned and walked back to the tomb. When Snape was close enough Harry saw that there was tightness around his eyes.

 _“_ The Dark Lord robbed the tomb,” the man said sneering.

 _“_ I've put the Elder Wand back. I've wanted it to lose its power after I'm dead,” Harry tugged on his hair nervously. “Do you trust me?”

Snape nodded. They stood facing the tomb and tried to lift the heavy lid together. They were successful on a first attempt. Under Harry's instructions they moved the lift on the right side, where he put the wand in Dumbledore's tomb. From Snape's expression he could sense his heart wasn't in it.

 _“_ You left his wand with him,” said the man, his voice strained.

 _“_ Unfortunately, I need it now,” Harry looked as Snape held out his hand tentatively to the white marble. The fingers froze in the air hesitantly and then they caressed the stone reverently. Harry's heart was tender with emotion. He wished in that moment for a better world for the Potions Master. A world where he didn't have to murder his friend. He turned away to give Snape some privacy and reached into the tomb and took out the wand. At once he felt the power rush through his hand, his blood, aiming for his heart.

When Harry looked back at Snape, the man stood, his back to the tomb, his head hanged. He loathed to disturb him, but he wanted to get the task done as soon as was possible. “Help me put that back, would you.”

After the lid was set back to its place, the man observed him with new regard.

 _“_ Now you're the Master of Death,” he said solemnly.

Harry tugged his invisibility cloak close to him. “You've figured it out, didn't you?”

 _“_ That the cloak in your possession is The Invisibility Cloak, from tales and legends?” Snape smirked. “Give me some credit, Potter, I'm not a complete fool. I've known since you've mentioned the Stone.”

 _“_ Well, whatever I am, it's not for long,” Harry caressed the cloak with his fingers. He didn't want to part with it. There were so many ways his life could go wrong – he'd need it to keep him hidden, to keep him safe. Alas, it was not meant to be. The nostalgic images passed in his mind's eyes. His father treasured it, he knew. He sent a silent apology to him for what he was about to do next.

It was a family heirloom. Family. A word that held the sweetest, most impossible meaning to Harry.

There was something he wanted more now.

 _“_ You intend to give them to somebody else? Merlin, Potter, you can't be that stupid,” Snape looked at him with trepidation. “You can't place such powerful objects in wrong hands,” he charmed a hair tie to appear out of thin air and gathered his hair in tail. He looked different, his features more sharp, his nose appearing even bigger.

 _“_ No,” Harry shook his head. “I intend to destroy them.”

There was a pregnant pause, while Snape stared him, clearly stunned.

 _“_ You've died and came back,” the man said slowly, piecing all the clues together. “To do this?”

 _“_ Yes. Well, partially.”

 _“_ Death wants you to destroy The Deathly Hallows,” Severus guessed. “I've always believed the objects to be a result of powerful magic, but born out of work of uniquely talented Wizard. One object in particular – Ressurection Stone, deals with matter beyond human grasp. Conjuring the spirits from the other side,” Snape stroked his chin thoughtfully. “But if Death itself wants them...”

 _“_ She asked for a favor,” Harry sighed.

Snape raised a perfectly arched brow at him. “And you're doing her bidding because...?”

 _“_ She gave me a gift. The kind I can't risk losing,” Harry said shortly. He laid the Stone on the ground along with the cloak. He couldn't help, but linger before he let go of the fabric. Snape watched him with rising contempt.

 _“_ It is unlike you to do somebody else's bidding,” said the man disgusted. “You're ready to destroy the most powerful artifacts in history for a gift? What could possibly be as important as those three items, Potter? You've parted with two, but that cloak belonged to your father. If it's not your life what could you possibly value above that?”

Harry looked the man in the eyes.

He debated telling the man the truth.

“You,” he uttered.

He told Snape about the meeting he had had with Death. With every piece of information revealed the man became paler and angrier. When Harry told him, that Snape's fate was to die on the floor of Shrieking Shank and Death had spared him, the man spit on the ground.

 _“_ Bollocks!” Snape face twisted in an ugly scowl. “Well, don't just stand there,” he snapped at Harry. “Do what you must.”

Harry took a shaky breath and faced the artifacts. He glanced at Snape, but the man didn't try to stop him. He cast a Bombarda on the stone with the Elder wand. The spell showered him with dirt. He spit the piece of mud that ended up in his mouth and approached the Stone. The spell made a small crater in the earth and at the bottom of it lay a Ressurection Stone.

It was completely intact, if you didn't count the cracks that appeared on its surface. Harry was ready to cast the spell again, but the Stone suddenly turned into ash. Immediately, a small whirlwind had risen, carrying the ash in the air and a loud boom, like a cracking of lightening, sounded.

When the wind quieted, Harry set the Invibility Cloak aflame. He didn't hesitate, didn't give himself a time to think, to doubt his decision. It was just an object. Not even a living thing. The flame ate a whole trough the fabric and then the fire disappeared. Like with the Stone, the Cloak turned to ash. Then the whirlwind started.

When Harry broke the Elder Wand, the wind carried the ash high above the ground. The wind around them got stronger and stronger and a final boom sounded. The sky went dark for a moment and Snape cursed, when a tall hooded figure appeared in the clearing.

 _“_ Thank you, Harry Potter,” the tranquil voice sounded.

In the blink of an eye Death was gone.

Harry breathed in a sigh of relief. He was dirty and covered in mud, but it was all worth it to know Snape was safe. He tried to brush the dirt out of his jumper, but it must have rained before in the day. The soil was still damp and he ended up only smearing the stains. He Scourgified his hair and turned to Snape with a smile. His grin faltered. The man was in foul mood.

 _“_ This is rather unbelievable,” he scoffed.

 _“_ There's something else Death told me,” Harry admitted. “Something about you.”

 _“_ Get on with it, Potter.”

 _“_ Your life will be intertwined with mine. When it's my time to go, so it will be yours,” Harry looked at Snape with sad eyes. He didn't miss how the Potions Master's shoulders tensed up. How his black eyes looked disappointed ever since he found out his life should have ended with Nagini's bite.

 _“_ Ah, how morbid. I don't assume that will persuade you to stay out of trouble.” Snape pointed.

Harry jolted his head. Surprise was written clearly on his young face. “I didn't even think about that part.”

 _“_ You rarely do,” said Snape depressed.

 _“_ I guess I won't be free to do as I wish because of that either,” Harry said apprehensive.

How could he risk his life again, if he knew he'd put Severus's life in danger? But Harry wanted to be an Auror. It would be his job to put his life on the line. It wouldn't be fair if Harry died, dragging Severus along with him. Bloody hell, Harry thought. He could have asked Death to grant Snape a good long life, independent from his own.

Snape only shook his head angrily.

 _“_ If you mean risk your life, then yes, you will be free to do as you wish, as nothing is stopping you,” the man spat out. “I certainly can't and the knowledge of my life having the same span as yours shouldn't stop you from living to your fullest potential Potter.”

Harry wanted to object, but Snape continued.

 _“_ I can already imagine that a bit of restraint in your adventure seeking would lead you to resent me,” Snape offered despondent. “Never on front lines, while your Weasley friend risks his life. Never near the dangerous cases, always compromising your job because of me,” Snape brushed the dirt out off of Harry's cheek. “You'll resent me. How long before you rebel every way you can think of, besides risking your life? You cannot think of this when you live your life Potter, or it will destroy any affection you have for me.”

Harry wanted to object, but thought better of it. It was too early to talk about his Auror position, when he hadn’t even finished his seventh year in Hogwarts. And trust Snape to call this aching need that pulsed within him a simple word like ‘affection’. Harry was beginning to discover he could only operate on extremes, where Snape was concerned. He loathed and despised the man in past and now he couldn't get enough of him.

 _“_ I'll just have to be careful. No matter what you think I value my life too,” Harry said touching his face where Snape's fingers had been.

Snape snorted in disbelief.

 _“_ I do. There was nothing I wanted more than to live, as I walked to Voldemort.”

Snape's gaze turned intent. “Let's leave before we're discovered.”

 _“_ Do you want a moment?” Harry nodded at the tomb. Snape shook his head. “Let's go then.”

They walked together on the grounds. Now, that they were free of Invisibility Cloak their steps were wide and Harry basked in the fresh night air. Harry could see Hagrid's hut in the distance. He still hadn’t bought a new owl. The last time he was in Diagon Alley he took only one look at menagerie and the grief from losing Hedwig overwhelmed him. Harry stole a glance at his companion. With his hair up he looked older, more severe. The corners of Snape's mouth were turned down.

 _“_ I thought you would be angry,” Harry started.

 _“_ Because I've been played again? Because my life has been bargained by those most powerful against the natural law? Because the cost of my life was enough to gift a Saviour, like a prized mare?” listed Severus.

 _“_ You're disappointed,” the boy observed with pang in his chest.

 _“_ Annoyed if nothing else Mr. Potter,” said the man, but Harry didn't believe him. “And not at all surprised,” finished Snape bitterly.

The next question that Harry wanted to ask, danced on his lips. He was afraid to voice it. He knew the man now, he had the impression he understood him. And the man Harry knew could well enough deliver the answer Harry didn't want to hear.

 _“_ Do you wish the nature had taken its course?” Harry asked, serious.

 _“_ If you're asking if I'd rather be dead right now Mr. Potter, then that really depends on the outcome of the trial I still have to face.”

The trial. Of course. Harry had forgotten all about it.

They've left the school grounds and Harry cast a last look at Hogwarts's towers. After familiar squeeze of apparition, they've landed on the steps of Grimmauld's Place. They were exposed for all the street to see them, but thankfully it was the middle of night. Harry opened the door with his key. He already missed his cloak.

 _“_ They'll give you a full-pardon. I'll make sure of that.”

The house was dark and silent. Harry figured the elf was already asleep.

 _“_ Foolish child,” Snape said dismissively. “When will you learn that not everything is in your hands?”

 _“_ I'm not a child,” Harry hissed. He stepped into Snape's personal space. “Would a child do this?” Harry took Snape by the lapels of his cloak and tugged him down to meet his lips. Harry didn't feel Snape's hair caressing his chin, as the last time, but soft lips pressed against his own and he was being kissed. Deft tongue slipped inside his mouth and Harry moaned appreciatively.

Snape apparated them right in his bedroom, where he pushed Harry roughly onto the bed. Harry landed with a “whoosh”. The bedsprings creaked beneath him. The moonlight illuminated two square shadows on the bed – Harry's face could be seen, but his companion's expression was indiscernible. Harry spread his legs invitingly, his heart thumping madly in his chest.

Out of the darkness of the room Snape appeared. His eyes were soft, with the lines around his mouth less severe. Harry licked his lips. Snape stepped between Harry's knees and put his hands on his kneecaps. He made a show of stroking them possessively and Harry felt himself flush with pleasure. He was always insecure about his knobby knees.

Snape's hands went up his thighs and Harry's cock twitched eagerly. He stroked his hipbones through jeans, the sensation dulled by the fabric.

 _“_ I'll take them off,” Harry said impatiently, his hands already on the fly of his jeans.

 _“_ Not tonight,” Snape caught his hands.

The man laid down on him, until Harry was pinned down under his weight. Harry analyzed the sensations. Snape's heavy body radiated warmth and it was lovely to feel him weighting him down. Harry felt secure, locked in a place. It felt good and he felt that place inside him, that had pined to fully surrender to the man, stir with hope.

Snape smelled of fresh air and lilacs. Harry wouldn't be able to smell the flowers now without getting aroused. The man nuzzled underneath his jaw and Harry's hands came up to touch the man's back.

His shoulders, his bony spine, his ass.

Snape moaned when Harry squeezed his buttocks. He thrust his hips and Harry felt a warm hardness pressing against his hip. Harry whined in need. God, it was Snape's cock hard and hot against him. He wanted to feel it in his hands, in his mouth.

The man licked a wet trail on his neck, tasting the dirt and the sweat. Harry moaned wantonly. He was still covered in mud and ash, but Snape didn't appear to care. Severus aligned them until hips met hips and started to thrust rhythmically between Harry's thighs. Harry cock was glad for attention. He moved his hips on his own accord, chasing his pleasure.

He heard Snape moan: a deep and smoky sound, that made an answering moan rise in his own throat.

 _“_ Look at me,” the man asked a broken sound in the dark room.

Harry opened his eyes and watched and Snape's eyes devoured his face. He took his glasses off and tossed them on the bed. The man traced Harry's lips with his finger and then bent to kiss him. Snape's tongue moved in Harry's mouth and the pace matched the thrusting of his hips. Harry was overwhelmed by the sensation. Snape ravished his mouth and Harry felt the tension build, his cock straining in his jeans.

Harry thanked the Gods for his trousers being a loose fit. He was so close to coming, as Snape fucked his mouth with his tongue. His moaned continuously now. He clutched at Snape's shoulders for dear life. The bed was so soft and the older man's weight on him so solid. He came, wrenching his mouth away from the man to take a greedy breath. A dampness spread in front of his jeans.

Snape latched onto his neck, kissing and sucking on the flesh there. He continued to thrust for a minute, but soon his muscles went rigid and Harry felt him bite his sweater, as he groaned. Harry stroked Snape's back lazily as the man relaxed and lay there on top of him, his head buried into the mattress to the side.

Harry felt the man chuckle. The action reverberated through his chest and his stomach. There was an uncomfortable wet patch on his jeans and underwear. Harry couldn't help the goofy smile that bloomed on his own face. Snape turned his face and kissed Harry's ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin.

The man rose on his elbows and moved until he wasn't resting on top of Harry anymore.

 _“_ Is it okay if I sleep here with you?” Harry was surprised how giddy he sounded.

 _“_ I suppose I can't stop you,” came the reply. Snape sounded amused.

Harry used a cleaning charm on himself and heard Snape do the same. He was dirty, sweaty and ridiculously happy. He sacrificed something important to him today and gained something even more precious. He was excited to feel Snape's skin against his own and do a lot more than just rub against each other. He had a vague idea of what two men did together in bed, he was eager to try it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for two lovely comments! They've made my day.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a week and half later and Harry was teaching Mrs. Dankworth how to concentrate on her happiest memory. She kept making funny faces, like she was trying to push something out. Her face would go red and the muscles on her neck would swell. Harry tried really hard not to laugh. He kept trying to get the woman to concentrate while relaxed, but it simply didn't work.

He, Ron, Hermione, Snape were in Godric's Hallow for a little over a week. They've had a group of twelve people, who contacted them from this village. It was really hard to convince Hermione it was perfectly safe for him to go into the Wizarding World without protection, but he managed. It was harder to avoid her questions about why he was so chipper these days. She kept asking if he met someone new, or if he was in contact with someone from DA. He reminded her that he didn't have an owl. That was the end of that.

The night after he destroyed Deathly Hallows, he and Snape went to sleep together. For the first time Harry drifted into slumber resting in the crook of Snape's shoulder. He was more than content, he was happy. He woke up nestled in sheets, sporting an erection, but he woke up alone. Snape had been up already. Harry recalled Mrs. Figg's house and the commonality was apparent.

If he hoped Snape would show his feeling for him more freely from now on or would at least be unafraid to touch him – those expectations proved to be completely false. The man acted like nothing had happened between them. He was perfectly polite and sarcastic, his usual unpleasant self in all the respects. Harry had tried to initiate some contact, but failed miserably.

It didn't help, that they had to keep up the appearances in public. When they were out, teaching the Patronus charm to the locals, Snape had socialized only with a group of students he was entrusted with. They each had three people they taught; additionally Harry oversaw the training of everyone else.

When they would go home Snape would hide himself in the library or his room and avoid Harry at all costs. Harry was confused. He knew Severus wanted him, loved him even, but the man wouldn't give in to his desires, driving Harry mad. And Harry was half-mad with desire with a bad case of blue balls. He wanked every morning and every evening, thinking about Snape's wet hot mouth, his hungry kisses and his cock. The cock Harry still haven't seen or touched. Snape's cock was the only part of his body honest about what it wanted, apparently.

Harry's teaching group consisted of the three eldest people from all of the students. The respectful elders were not as prone to hero worship, as the yonger generation and Harry chose them for that reason specifically. At first they tried to gather in the Godric Hallow's square, but they soon discovered they had blocked the path from people simply traveling through, not to mention those who were relaxing on the benches and didn't want to stare at their lessons all afternoon. Harry attracted a lot of unwanted attention and he was relieved when Mrs. Penny offered her back yard for the practice.

They were in their fifth lesson and a lot of people were having trouble with the spell. They've said the words and thought happy thoughts, but nothing happened. Not even silver mist. At their first lesson Harry, Ron, Hermione and Snape all demonstrated their Patronuses to show the people what they were striving to achieve.

Harry was embarrassed when his stag chased Snape's doe all across the square, then fawned all over her when he finally caught up with the animal. He looked as his Patronus walked circles around Snape's doe and saw that two pink spots appeared on Snape's cheeks. Ron thought it odd, but the worst of all was Hermione's puzzled look. He knew it wouldn't take her long to figure things out.

 _“_ Look, Harry, I've made it!” came the bright voice from Ron's group.

It was Jacob. Jacob Lowe. A Hufflepuff, who's just finished his six's year and had become a nuisance to Harry from the first day. The boy wanted to be among those who were taught by Harry and argued persistently with Ron over being placed in his group. He would break apart from his team to inevitably end up by Harry's side, asking him advice on how to hold his wand, which memory to use to conjure a Patronus, whether his affinity for charms would help him to achieve a corporeal Patronus and just to chat about the weather, Hogwarts, the Houses, Quidditch or any other topic, that came to his mind.

Harry turned in direction of the voice and saw that Jacob, indeed, had managed to conjure a silver shadow. He summoned a tempered smile. At first Harry was amused and a little apprehensive about the attention he got from this particular student. He tried to be as professional, as he could be. He didn't want to be rude to the boy, but he didn't want to be too friendly and encourage Jacob either. But it got worse as it went on. When they got a tea break and Harry wanted to relax and talk to his friends, Jacob would be there, insinuating himself in their conversation.

Worst of all was Snape glaring in Harry's direction every time Jacob called him, or came anywhere near him. He would just be there, sitting at the table in the garden, talking with his friends with Snape injecting a word or two into the conversation, when the teenager would approach him and start admiring his physique. Jacob didn't shy away from touching him either, he'd hang onto his elbow, brush the dust off of his shoulders, making Harry extremely uncomfortable. Every time the boy would do that, Snape would sneer at Harry, as if this was his fault.

It was another sunny day and Harry couldn't help, but to admire Jacob's silver shadow. People have gathered around the boy congratulating him on his success. An owl swooped down from the air, almost colliding with Harry's head. He tracked it with his eyes across the yard and was surprised to see it land on table where Snape sat, resting his knees.

Curious, Harry watched as Snape opened an official looking letter. A tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows as his eyes skimmed over the contents. Harry wanted to know who the letter belonged to. A friend? Someone even closer? He tried not to dwell, but he felt tiny pang of insecurity penetrate his gut. He was never this territorial with Ginny. But Snape... Harry was jealous of any strong connection the man could have. It was wrong, but he couldn't help himself.

When the lessons were finished and he said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, he greeted the older man. “What was letter about?” was the first thing out of his mouth. Harry cringed over how eager he sounded.

 _“_ It's a personal business.”

Harry tried to think rationally. The letter looked official; in fact, he was sure he saw the purple seal before. “Is it from the Ministry? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

 _“_ Yes, and no. Not yet,” answered the man cryptically.

Harry grasped the man's elbow, concerned. “Severus.”

 _“_ Leave it be, Potter,” the man hand rested briefly on Harry's fingers, holding his arm.

Harry sighed. “Fine, but you have to go with me to Mrs. Figg’s place. I want to clean things up a bit, before she comes,” he explained.

 _“_ I'll accompany you to her house, but you'll be the one to clean it,” warned him Severus.

Harry snickered. “I don't expect you to mop,” he told the man. “I'm actually good at cleaning charms. Mrs. Weasley taught me some, when we lived at Grimmauld.”

They were out of the back yard and could apparate at any moment. Harry stopped and took the man by the hand. Snape looked at where their hands met and something softened in his features.

 _“_ Maybe you've found your vocation,” the older man jested.

 _“_ Ha-bloody-ha, Snape.”

They've arrived at Privet Drive and immediately Harry felt the change in temperature. The London was cloudy, but the air felt stuffy and hot. The cats greeted them warmly, rubbing at their legs – even Severus got the same treatment, although usually they only showed affection to those who fed them.

Snape settled in the living room, producing a book out of nowhere and engrossing himself in its pages. Harry went to work. He stripped the bedding from all of the beds and stuffed them into the washing machine. He transfigured the changes in the guest room, returning the room its original setting, two beds now made one. With a pang in his chest, he got rid of the crib, by making it into two chairs again. He practiced his cleaning charms on the stove and then entire kitchen. He then charmed the duster to clean the dust and began mopping the floor without the help of magic. When he was finished with the both floors, he checked the washing machine and pulled out all the sheets. He didn't know an ironing spell, so the next hour and half he spent ironing them. When he finished and stored away everything to the bedroom cabinet, he went down to the kitchen to pour himself some water.

He was incredibly sweaty, with a fine layer of perspiration covering his entire body. His shirt was damp and he was grateful his baggy jeans didn't restrict any movement. He did similar work when he lived with Dursleys, but he usually stretched the cleaning to the entire week. He took a quick peek into the living room.

Snape sat in one of the armchairs, still reading. In fact, the man managed to conjure himself a teapot and was slowly sipping his tea. Harry rolled his eyes annoyed. Contrary to what he said earlier, he snapped.

 _“_ I'm not asking you to do all the work, but some, some help would be nice,” Harry pulled the shirt over his head and used it fan himself.

 _“_ I see that you've accomplished what you've set to do,” observed the man evenly. “My input is hardly needed.”

 _“_ You're git,” Harry flopped in the armchair next to Snape.

Snape's eyes flashed at him. The man looked both annoyed and amused in equal measure. Harry lay back in the armchair and closed his eyes. He rested for a couple minutes, until his breathing was calm and the muscles in his legs and shoulders stopped aching. He drifted a little and when he opened his eyes again, the sweat on his body cooled down and the anger seeped out of his body.

He opened his eyes and was met with a burning stare, travelling hungrily down his naked chest. Snape noticed he was alert and guilty look crossed his features. He looked away quickly and returned his attention to his book. Harry stomach fluttered. He felt the want stirring in his groin and he followed its call, out of his chair and into Snape's lap.

 _“_ What are you doing?” the man hissed, when Harry's knees wrapped themselves around the man's thighs.

 _“_ One kiss,” Harry begged quietly, his stare transfixed on Snape's lips.

The man put his book away and his pointed finger jabbed painfully into Harry's shoulder. “Get off you spoilt menace,” he barked, but there was no fire behind it.

 _“_ I've been cleaning for three hours now, I deserve some reward.”

Harry's bum rested on Snape's bony knees. He leaned forward, but was stopped by Snape's hands gripping him tightly on his shoulders.

 _“_ Harry,” he said, his mouth cautious around a word.

Harry's eyes suddenly stung with unnamed emotion. He only heard Snape call him Harry once before. He craned his neck, leaning forward and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of Snape's mouth. Then his lips travelled to the other corner, placing feather-light kisses along the way. Slowly Snape acquiesced and his hands traveled down Harry's bare arms, no longer trying to keep the distance between them.

Snape returned the kiss, pulling Harry's lower lip between his teeth, scraping them along the surface, barely touching. His hands explored Harry naked back, rubbing soothingly, unbothered by the thin film of perspiration on Harry's skin. Harry felt warm and safe, sitting on the man's lap.

Harry tried to venture deeper into Snape's mouth, using his tongue. He rested his hands on the man's stomach, rubbing it lightly. The kiss grew more passionate. Their tongues explored each other's mouths and Harry moaned heatedly. Heat was pooling in his groin, he was already hard.

Snape's hand palmed his neck, bringing Harry's mouth firmer against his own and he licked at Harry's palate. It tickled and Harry grunted displeased. He felt Snape smirk and the next thing he knew, Snape hand traced the line of his nape into his hair and then yanked his head roughly, tearing their mouths apart.

 _“_ What...?” Harry gasped.

But Snape already leaned forward, burying his face in Harry's neck, his mouth sucking on the tender skin there. Harry let Snape kiss his fill along his jaw, his neck, he even licked his adam's apple. Harry's concentrated on his hands, leading them lower and lower, until he was palming Snape's groin. The man was unmistakably hard.

Harry could feel the outline of Snape's cock beneath the fabric of his trousers. He bit his lip and whined pitifully. His own cock got even harder, pulsing madly in his pants. Snape's mouth traveled lower, sucking hungrily on his collar bones, placing possessive marks. It felt heavenly and Harry never wanted the man to stop.

But all he could think about was Snape's cock.

 _“_ Stop,” he whispered.

Although his voice was quiet, the man had heard him. He moaned regretfully and stopped to look at Harry's face. Snape's eyes were wild, he was unhinged his gaze was searching. The man almost looked like he was in pain; two bright spots of color graced his cheeks. Harry wanted nothing more than to take that pain away, but he suspected Snape loved this torture as much as he did.

Harry hopped from the man's lap and his knees sank onto the floor. He could see the man's bulge now and it looked just like it did, when Harry first saw it in the shower room of this house. He spread Snape's legs and without any foreplay his hands went straight to Snape's belt buckle. The man stared at him puzzled, while Harry undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. The sound of a zipper pulled down rang hollowly in the room.

Something must have clicked in Snape's brain right then.

 _“_ Fuck!” he swore. Harry was startled by the way the man's voice formed around the obscenity. It was almost erotic. He didn't have time to process the revelation, however, because the next thing he knew Snape hands seized Harry's wrists. “You're not doing that!”

Harry felt shame swallow him up. He raised his eyes until he was looking at Snape's face, searching for clues. The man's face was open and pained. There was fear and guilt in his eyes. Clearly Snape had never meant for them to go farther than kissing and rubbing each other off.

But he wants me, Harry thought stubbornly. He caught Snape looking at him when they were having meals together, when they rested in the living room each with their own book. Harry would feel Snape's stare heavy on him and when he tore his eyes from the book, sure enough Snape would shift his eyes quickly back to his own book. But he was looking. Even when they were busy in Godric's Hallow he would get the familiar sensation and find Snape watching him.

And Harry wanted him back. Oh, how he wanted. The man was his first thought waking up and his last going to sleep. The memory of the night they destroyed the Hallows was nestled snuggly in his chest, spreading warmth and hope. It gave him wings, knowing Snape loved him. But it wasn't just physical attraction. Harry loved their conversation too. He enjoyed Snape wit and sense of humor; he learned to appreciate his temperament. But none of it mattered in face of one simple fact. Harry trusted Severus. He felt safe around the man. As irrational as it may be, he could only relax fully when he was in Snape's company. Whenever it was just the two of them, there was something akin to magic happening and Harry couldn't explain it. He didn't have to be strong. Didn't need to watch his step, didn't have to wear a mask. He could just let himself be.

Harry tried to free his hands from Severus. He knew what he wanted to do. The man only gripped him tighter, bruising the thin skin. Harry felt his devious streak rise up.

He did so love a challenge.

He bent forward and buried his face in Snape's crotch. His chin rubbed along the shaft hidden by the fabric. He felt an answering twitch in his groin and moaned wantonly.

Snape released a litany of curses. He felt Snape hips move under him, trying to create some friction. Harry inhaled deeply and was assaulted by the scent of Snape's arousal. His mouth watered. He opened his mouth and licked along the outline of Snape's cock, the fabric scratchy and dry against his tongue.

Snape hold on Harry's hands went limp (Gotcha!) and he had no trouble freeing his hands. His fingers went back to opening Snape pants. He palmed the man's erection through his underwear and felt himself throb between his thighs.

Oh.

He seemed to have a thing for cocks. Well, Snape's cock.

He removed the underwear from the way (Grey! Huh!) and inhaled sharply when he saw Snape in all his glory. The man was larger than him. Thicker and longer. He was cut, with the head forming a neat shape and was leaking with precum. Above him the man was breathing heavily. Harry traced the little veins along the shaft almost in trance.

Snape groaned deeply. Harry glanced at him briefly. The man looked defeated, but his eyes burned, betraying his desire. “You don't have to,” he mumbled nearly shy. It was so unlike Snape to mumble.

 _“_ Let me,” Harry said softly. He took Snape's erection in his hand and tugged firmly; using the same rhythm and pressure he applied to himself.

 _“_ Grip it tighter,” the older man guided. Harry complied.

He stroked Snape's member lazily for a few moments. Then he opened his mouth and gave the rosy head a tentative lick. Snape's flavor burst across his tongue and he heard an answering moan coming from the man. His tongue went exploring along the length of the shaft, licking long stripes and then circling the head. He discovered than Snape was particularly sensitive beneath the head, eliciting a load groan from the Potions Master, and he petted the area with his tongue.

Snape hands ended up in his hair, massaging his scalp slowly. Harry conjured all his knowledge about blowing someone to the front of his mind. In the meantime, he humped the armchair urgently, relieving some of his own need.

Well, now was the time, he told himself nervously.

He opened his lips, trying to hide his teeth and sucked the head into his mouth. Snape's cock went in only a couple of inches and the farther Harry tried to swallow, the stronger his gag reflex became. Harry settled on wanking the rest of the length with his hand. Snape kept pushing his hips up, trying to make himself go deeper into Harry's mouth.

Harry thrust his hips mindlessly against the cushion, lost in the sensations.

The Potions Master was making little strangled noises, trying to keep quiet. Harry wasn't bothered with the level of noises he was making. He lifted his eyes and saw Snape bite his lip viciously, his face flushed ugly red.

God, Harry loved doing this.

His mouth felt stretched, his jaw already started aching and he was drooling on Snape's underwear, but he felt wonderful. It would probably be more comfortable without his glasses, but Harry wanted to see everything he was doing clearly. Harry moaned appreciatively, bobbing his head up and down. He was going to get addicted to the taste, the textures and what they did to his body. He could feel his own release building.

 _“_ You've never done this before,” choked the older man. His voice betrayed his surprise.

Harry answered with a moan. Snape cursed. He tugged on Harry's hair insistently.

 _“_ Close,” he warned.

Harry sucked harder, trying to take the man deeper into his throat. He felt the man go rigid beneath him and heard a loud groan. A bitter fluid filled his mouth. Desperate, Harry rushed to undo his own pants. He lasted only a dozen strokes before he was spilling through his fist.

It took him about ten minutes to gather his thoughts, banish the mess and button his jeans. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction glowing in his chest. When he looked at Severus, however, his joy dimmed somewhat.

The man had cleaned himself up, but was sitting with his face buried in his hands.

 _“_ Are you quite alright?” Harry asked timidly.

 _“_ I'm twice older than you,” snapped the man. His hands dropped lifelessly onto his lap.

Harry was relieved to find that Snape didn't look particularly unhappy. His gaze was not unkind. His eyes glittered brightly.

 _“_ I could be your father,” the man said miserably.

 _“_ If you're talking about my mother...” Harry snarled, his feeling hurt.

 _“_ My feeling towards Lily Evans have never been romantic,” cut him down the older man. “You've seen my memories and simply assumed my sentiments toward your mother were more than a grief over lost friend.”

Harry blinked taken aback. He considered the sudden revelation. On the one hand he was relieved. On the other he didn't know what to feel about the version of Snape that didn't pine for two decades for a long lost love.

Meanwhile the man continued, “I've been the cause of death of only person who had ever showed kindness to me. Without any ulterior motive, without dangling their affections for me as an incentive for my obedience. I can't imagine you know what that feels like.”

Harry relocated to the armchair next to Snape. He put his shirt on with a frown upon his face.

 _“_ You're disappointed,” observed the man. “Why are you disappointed?”

 _“_ M'not,” Harry said quietly. “I'm just wondering.”

Harry hand was resting on armrest. Snape took it in his own and interlaced their fingers. A brief smile touched Harry's lips.

 _“_ Was there anybody else?” Harry asked, still contemplative. “A man, perhaps, who meant a lot to you?” Harry was proud when no hint of previous jealousy flared to life.

 _“_ No.”

Harry worried his lip. He looked at Snape with different eyes.

 _“_ It must have been lonely,” he said sadly.

The older man swallowed and pursed his lips. Harry took it as a yes.

Mr. Chubbs chose that moment to jump on Snape's lap. The cat purred loudly, its large body settling on Snape lap. Instead of chasing the beast away, Snape free hand petted the cat, making tracks through its white fur. His other hand still rested in Harry's.

Harry wanted to promise to the man that he would never have to be alone again, but he doubted Snape would believe him. It was better to just stay close. To be the one to listen to him about his troubles and his woes. To be someone Snape could rely on and even feel safe around. The way Harry felt around him.

There was a glowing feeling in Harry's chest and he was determined not to let anything bother him in chasing it away. He smiled to his thoughts and studied the fingers interlaced with his own. Long and thin, they looked delicate, but Harry knew how strong they were, capable of chopping the toughest ingredients. They gripped him firmly and Harry's hand tingled spreading a sense of quiet joy into his veins.

The bubble burst the next morning, when Harry foolishly opened the Daily Prophet. It was an early morning and he came downstairs for a piece of toast. There was a picture of Severus on the front page with a big letters beneath that stated: “Snape! Death Eater or a Spy? The Wizengamot starts a trial on First of September.”

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. A week left. He cursed. Wrapped up in his feelings for the man, he completely forgot about the trial the man would be facing. The letter! No wonder he found the purple seal familiar, he'd gotten the same letter from the Ministry. How could he have forgotten?! And the man didn't say anything about the date of the trial.

He rushed in Snape room, skipping steps. He stopped by the man's door and pounded at the door with his fists.

 _“_ Snape!” he yelled. “Open the door!”

The door flew open, revealing the man still in his nightshirt. Normally Harry would find the sight intriguing, but he was preoccupied with other matters at the moment. Fear, worry and anger churned in his gut, battling each other for dominance.

 _“_ What is it you need at this hour?” the man asked, perfectly composed.

Harry burst into the room, pushing past the man.

 _“_ Why didn't you tell me your trial date has been set?” Harry questioned in a raised voice. His tone betrayed his fear, but Harry didn't bother pretending he was unaffected by the news. “That what the owl was about, isn't it?”

Snape sighed. He closed the door and turned to Harry.

 _“_ How did you know?”

 _“_ It's in a bloody Prophet!” Harry yelled out.

The Potions Master winced. “Ah, how unfortunate,” the man stroked his chin and furrowed his brows.

 _“_ Do you want to tell me why I had to find out about the trial date from the papers, Snape?” Harry questioned in anger. “What? Am I not bloody important enough to know?” he shoved the chair out of his way roughly. It fell onto the floor with a loud bang.

 _“_ If you would kindly refrain from crushing the furniture,” the man whispered dangerously.

 _“_ Go to hell!” Harry pushed the nearest stack of books and it crumbled onto the floor, books flying everywhere.

 _“_ I just might,” the man said quietly. He returned the chair and the books to their place by the flick of the wand.

In that moment the anger lost the battle to fear and Harry felt its cold clutches in his chest. He loathed, loathed worrying about his loved ones. He stopped making a mess out of the room and had to support himself on the table. His knees felt suddenly weak.

 _“_ We only have one week before... before...” Harry whispered weakly.

 _“_ Till I'm convicted on all of my charges, which should include being a Death Eater and murdering Albus Dumbledore,” deadpanned the man.

Harry felt a pang of sorrow in his chest. He missed Dumbledore. But at that moment he couldn't help but resent the headmaster for what he made Severus do. No doubt the man still thought himself guilty of murder. Harry, a witness to Snape's memories, knew the man did everything he could to prolong Dumbledore's life.

 _“_ Don't,” Harry said confidently. “I know who I'm dealing with.”

 _“_ A twice your senior, someone marked by your greatest enemy as a servant, someone guilty of your parent's murder,” listed Snape with a cruel sneer.

 _“_ If it weren't you, it would be someone else. I doubt the Hall of Prophecies could be updated with a prophecy with Voldemort's name on it without him finding out one way or another. Maybe I would've had years and years with my parents before that happened, maybe not. There's no way to know for sure.”

 _“_ You refuse to hold me accountable...” said the man, frustration etching his voice.

 _“_ I won't lie, knowing it was you who delivered the prophecy to Voldemort, it’s a tough pill to swallow,” Harry confessed. Snape withdrew slightly, his eyes going wide. “But you've atoned for that long time ago. I owe my life to you,” tears gathered in the corner of the boy's eyes.

 _“_ Harry,” the man said softly.

 _“_ I know, I'm a huge sap,” Harry said, wiping his eyes as quickly as he could. “It's just... it's so soon. I've thought we'd have more time,” Snape hands reached out then and took him in his arms.

Harry breathed in the comforting scent and sank into the embrace. He felt the fear fall back a step, although it was still there. He would do anything, anything to keep Snape out of prison. Even break him out of there himself, if it really came down to it.

Snape bent his head and his lips brushed the corner of Harry's eye. He then licked one remaining tear away, humming appreciatively.

Harry giggled. He felt some stirring in his groin.

God, sometimes the man was like a strange woodland animal. Harry would be too afraid to be either mauled by it, or to spook it away with a careless gesture. It was an odd game to come close enough to let the creature pet him, but Harry though it was all worth it.

 _“_ Potter, breakfast awaits and if you haven't forgotten we still need to apparate to Godric's Hollow,” said Snape grumpily. Harry felt his chest reverberate with the noise.

 _“_ Okay,” Harry said shakily. He placed a dry kiss on a nightshirt beneath his cheek. “Okay,” he repeated in a steadier voice. “But we're not finished.”

Harry was distracted the entire day. He was sure everybody noticed that. He confused Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Birch calling one Amanda and other Melissa. He fumbled his instruction and repeated the same thing twice on more than one occasion. He even managed to drop his wand. Hermione kept throwing concerned looks his way. Harry felt the headache approaching and went to the house for a glass of water.

He poured himself from a tap and drank half of it. The kitchen was small but well lit, with navy blue cabinets. He'd liked it more than the one at Grimmauld Place, or even the one at Mrs. Figg’s. There was a carrot pie on the counter. Harry hadn't cooked since he returned the Masons to the orphanage. He wondered how they were doing. He should at least visit them, to make sure they were settled alright.

A high voice interrupted his musings.

 _“_ How are you Harry?” Harry groaned internally. It was Jacob. “You've been out of sorts today.”

 _“_ I'm fine, really, just not enough sleep,” the older boy turned and offered a tight smile.

Jacob's eyes widened. He suddenly looked very sorrowful. “You're not sleeping well?” he asked. He then leaned and whispered conspiratorially. “Is it because of nightmares?”

Harry blinked. “Huh?”

 _“_ You know all the horrors you've seen, you must feel terrible,” elaborated the younger boy. He moved closer to Harry, carrying a compassionate expression.

 _“_ Umm...” Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose, a little annoyed.

 _“_ I think you're so brave, Harry,” said the boy moving even closer.

 _“_ Well,” started Harry, but the next thing he knew was Jacob's lips pressed against his.

He stood in shock for a moment, not knowing what to do. Thankfully, a beat later Jacob was hauled back by his collar by none other than Severus Snape. The man looked furious. He regarded Harry in contempt, still holding the younger boy by the collar.

Oops, Harry thought. He really didn't want to be caught in compromising position by Snape. He rather have Snape do various compromising positions with him.

 _“_ What is it do you think you're doing, Mr. Potter, going after underage youths?” Snape drawled in his most snobby voice.

Harry was indignant. “Hey, I'm not the one who's tried to snog someone!” he yelled, blushing furiously.

 _“_ I think I should report this inappropriate behavior.” Harry stared. “You're here to teach, Mr. Potter,” the man finally released Jacob. “My, my what would the papers say?”

Harry shuddered visibly.

 _“_ Leave Harry out of this!” yelled Jacob. He looked really put out.

Something clicked in Harry's brain. “You won't go to Prophet with this, will you? They already ran the gamut on my reputation,” he asked in wary voice.

Snape made a thoughtful face. He traced his lips with a finger and his gaze grew shrewd. “I'll see Mr. Potter. If you continue this indecency I'll make sure everyone knows how you take advantage of your students.”

Harry tried to keep himself from smiling.

 _“_ No, don't,” Jacob wailed despairing. “What will it take for you to stay silent?”

There was a winning smirk on Snape’s face. It brought warmth to Harry's chest. Then he addressed Harry. “Stay away from this boy, Ms Potter,” Harry nodded solemnly. “And know, know that I'm always watching.” Snape tugged Jacob by his collar. “Come away young man, we don't want this little commotion to reach your parents, do we?”

Poor Jacob wore a petulant pout. “No,” he spoke flatly, defeated.

Harry had to bite his lip from breaking into smirk himself.

This little incident brought up Harry's spirit and he finished the day better than he started. He tried to keep track of everybody’s success and was surprised their efforts finally showed a result. In a short time the entire group improved greatly. Harry was secretly very proud. It seemed that they've finally reached the learning curve that started giving results. The cloudy afternoon turned sunny, as the wind chased the clouds away. There were some yellow leaves in the garden and Harry knew he couldn't postpone his decision to stay or go back to Hogwarts.

When the lesson was over Harry waved his friends, but went straight to Snape's side.

 _“_ That was brilliant what you did. Jacob won't try to go near me anymore,” Harry bumped Snape's shoulder lightly and ignored Hermione's eyes watching them intently.

Snape snorted. “Brilliant? I found it quite hypocritical given my own connection with a student.”

The garden was nearly empty and there were good thirty feet between them and other people. Still, Harry came closer to the man and lowered his voice. “It's not like we've got anywhere worth mentioning,” he said lightheartedly.

Snape drew back, his brows shooting up. “Excuse me?”

 _“_ We haven't had proper sex yet,” Harry said, faking confidence where he didn't feel one. “But that's not because of me not trying,” he added grudgingly.

The man crossed his hands in front of him in protective gesture. He eyed Harry like he was an interesting specimen of flobberworm. “I see. Frottage and oral sex is not enough to sate your appetites,” the man concluded accusingly.

 _“_ Frottage?” the boy asked. He shook the confusion off, eyeing Snape's broad shoulders and slim waist. “Never mind,” he didn't mean to put the man on guard. “I'm satisfied with anything you give me,” he said earnestly. “When you actually do touch me, that is.”

 _“_ It is becoming apparent my assistance won't be needed,” Snape commented, like he was talking about the weather.

 _“_ What? You expect me to snog myself?” Harry was perplexed.

 _“_ I would be willing to part with some money to watch that,” the corners of Snape's mouth turned up. “But I've meant the lessons.”

Oh, Harry thought. He blushed. “Yeah, right. Almost everybody can conjure something close to a corporeal Patronus and some of them can manifest a full one. Of course, it would be different to do it against a real Dementor, but well, can't have everything I guess.”

 _“_ All students from your group managed to produce real Patronuses,” observed the man.

 _“_ Yeah, I've got a lucky bunch.”

 _“_ Hardly. The eldest – yes, but not more powerful than the rest,” Snape appeared deep I thought. “I've heard about your success as an instructor during the time the Ministry appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. But I must admit I doubted your abilities in the teaching field. After all, that Pink Toad, your competitor hardly taught you a thing, anyone would seem like an improvement compared to her. However, seeing your tutoring first hand, I must admit you have a remarkable grasp on how to make spells work. You do not coddle your group, but you give them enough individual attention. Have you considered teaching as your future profession?”

 _“_ Umm... Thank you,” Harry said. He felt like his body has suddenly lost its weight and he was floating on clouds. Snape's praise was incredibly flattering. “But now that I think about it – I like investigating. Much of my previous adventures started with a mystery and I like solving them.”

 _“_ I see. Well, remember: if the Aurors bore you sometime in the future, there is another vocation waiting for you.”

 _“_ I will,” Harry smiled.

They've had only two more lessons and the last one was spent chatting and sharing some homemade cake Mrs. Penny made for the occasion. Harry made a short speech and he, Ron and Hermione left to join other DA members in Hogsmeade for the celebration. Harry asked if Snape wanted to come, but the man waved him off and refused to even consider it. He tried to imply sexual favors would be bestowed if one was to show, but it failed spectacularly. Snape apparated back to Grimmauld Place and although Harry was never to leave the man alone, he went a separate way.

To his suprise Neville and Susan spent the most time chatting him up, once they've arrived. Everybody had stories to share. Most of them were moving on with their lives, going to apprenticeship programs or the uni, but some of them were taking a year off.

Susan, for example, already had a job at Muggle Liaison Office at the Ministry. She talked with Harry about Dudley and although Harry wasn't remotely interested in discussing his cousin, he kept the conversation going, trying to be polite.

Neville was studying Herbology under a renowned Herbologist and was delighted to share his progress with the plants in his garden. Harry couldn't honestly say plants interested him more than Dudley, but he listened to Neville and between “Hmm” and “Fascinating” inserted here and there, he didn't have to engage in conversation any more.

His thought were elsewhere, however. He wanted to contact McGonagall and ask her if she was aware if Dumbledore left anything that could help Snape with his trial. A letter to be opened when the time was right, or memories of him and Snape conspiring his murder, perhaps. Anything, anything would be welcome.

He wondered if Snape would agree to take Veritaserum and testify under its influence. He made a conversation, but the cheer would not come. So he drank a little more than he was used to, until Hermione cornered him up and placed her hand on his shoulder.

 _“_ You're going to get drunk, Harry.”

 _“_ Thanks mom, I can take care of myself,” he said downing another glass.

She glared at him beneath her bushy brows. “Are going back to Hogwarts with me and Ron?”

 _“_ I... Yes,” Harry ordered another drink. “Now that Severus is going to be on trial, my time is going to be all free,” he remarked bitterly.

 _“_ I'm sure McGonagall would be happy to let you go and visit the hearings,” his friend bumped his shoulder lightly. Harry nodded and took a sip of his drink. “Do you want me to owl her and tell her you're coming back to Hogwarts on the first of September?”

Harry looked at her in surprise. He forgot what a helpful friend Hermione was. “Yes, I would greatly appreciate it Hermione. With me having no owl and all.”

 _“_ Exactly what I was thinking,” she smirked. She rubbed her brow hesitantly. “I've noticed you and Professor got very close, Harry.” Harry tensed up immediately. He wasn't ready for anyone to know about how his relationship with Snape improved over the course of the summer. “Are you sure you know what you're doing with him?”

 _“_ He's the only one who knows anything about my mother,” Harry said carefully keeping his face blank.

 _“_ Yes, I know,” her eyes followed the glass, as Harry took another sip of his drink. “But have you noticed how he has been following you, whenever you go, lately?”

Harry looked at her, incredulous. “Tell me you're joking, Hermione. I'm his guardian remember? Always at his side and everything.”

 _“_ Even earlier,” his friend persisted. “He sought you out since he regained consciousness, Harry. He followed you around the Dean Forest, he continued to visit you when you lived at Mrs. Figg’s. Don't you find it odd? It's like he has been glued to your side. And I've noticed he's never hostile around you anymore, he doesn't call you names and try to get you in trouble. Don't you think he's acting like... like he wants something from you?”

Harry frowned. He didn't know how to explain Snape acting odd, without revealing too much.

 _“_ I would testify in his favor regardless if he's been friendly to me, you know that,” he said leaving his drink and turning to face his friend fully.

 _“_ That's not what I meant. His friendship with your mother, are you sure she's the only one who he's gotten attached to, Harry?”

 _“_ What?”

 _“_ I've seen the way he looks at you,” Hermione whispered. Harry felt the color drain from his face. “He watches you Harry, he touches you and you don't even bat an eye at it. Even Ron has noticed how friendly you two got.”

 _“_ Really?” Harry squeaked. “Umm... I mean...Mhm...” he stumbled for words.

 _“_ You don't mind it,” deflated Hermione. Harry felt his shoulder sag. He rubbed his eyes, taking his glasses off. He cleaned the lenses meticulously, gathering his thoughts. Hermione worried her thumb nervously. “Harry?” she asked urgently.

 _“_ I don't mind it,” Harry confirmed.

Hermione sighed, disappointed. “Don't you realize he has no friends? You’re his only link to the world, Harry!” she pleaded. “It's a lot of responsibility to be somebody's only friend, you know. I'm... I'm not sure his feeling are strictly platonic.”

 _“_ I know,” said Harry simply.

His friend looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time. She shook her head mirthlessly. Someone in the crowd shouted “Ron is our king!” and an applause erupted. Harry felt himself getting stiffer by the minute. The last thing he wanted is to out himself and Severus so early in their relationship.

He also couldn't bear the thought of his best friend disapproving of what his heart wanted. He knew himself pretty well, he didn't see himself falling out of love with Severus any time soon. Ever since the man touched him, Harry had felt like he'd left a mark on his heart. But he couldn't tell Hermione that.

 _“_ You're disappointed in me,” Harry said miserably. “I understand.”

 _“_ Oh, Harry, I could _never_ be disappointed in you!” Hermione denied hotly. She cast a quick look at Ron drinking beer and the crowd cheering him on. “It's just so sudden. You've hated each other fiercely only months ago. Are you sure you're not rushing things?”

His friend’s eyes looked at him so openly. He couldn't lie to her. “I don't know,” he admitted quietly. “But he's the best thing that happened to me in a while... Well, not counting defeating Voldemort.”

They stared at each other silently. So many things between them could be exchanged wordlessly. They've known each other so well. Harry's heart hurt at the possibility of losing his friend to this. But he found no condemnation in Hermione's eyes. She looked kindly at him, eagerly even. As if she wanted to know everything, every step that made it possible for her friend to fall for his loathsome professor.

She tucked a loose strand of hair beneath her ear. “You were always obsessed with him. Him and Malfoy.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, me and Malfoy? Never happening.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Do you need my approval?”

Harry ruffled his hair and grinned. “It wouldn't hurt.”

 _“_ Then you have it.”

Harry drank the rest of the evening away, but not out of misery, but out happiness. Ron joined them and they've spent the rest of the evening chatting. Just the three of them, like the old times. He didn't trust himself to apparate, so he flooed into Grimmauld Place.

It was already very late in the evening and the house was dark and quiet. Harry felt every bit of alcohol he consumed in the way he swayed on his feet. He stumbled on his way through the living room and stopped before the stairs. They presented a challenge. He walked up on shaky feet, holding tight onto the railings. It was too dark to see anything and he lighted a Lumos. He counted the steps for some reason.

He wondered if Sirius ever walked on these steps drunk and concluded that yes, he probably had. That thought upset him so much he sat on the stairs and ruminated on his dark thoughts for a while. He never really gotten this drunk before. He didn't want to sleep alone. There was a place he wanted to go to, a person whom he wanted to spend the night with.

Harry climbed and climbed, until he was at Snape's door. He opened it with a spell. It slid quietly ajar and he slipped into the room with stealth of a cat. Or a moose. Probably a moose. Harry held his wand above his head, casting a room in warm glow.

Severus was asleep on the bed. His inky black hair contrasted the pillow and there was a book on his lap. Harry found the sight lovely. He grinned and started undressing. He took the tee off without any problem and tossed it away. He though he was great at sneaking right then. He undid the button on his pants, pulled the zipper down and started to take them off.

He was immediately thrown off-balance, stumbling and knocking off a chair. It crashed with a loud boom. “Oh no,” Harry groaned into the darkness. His wand had fallen onto the floor, its light dimming. A sigh came from the bed. Harry froze, his one leg still caught in his pants. The figure on the bed moved.

 _“_ Potter,” a grumpy voice sounded.

 _“_ Sorry, sorry, I'm going to be super quiet now,” Harry whispered, trying to take his wand. He reached, but swayed and tipped the stack of books and it came crashing onto floor.

 _“_ Potter, must you always be the clutz?”

Harry didn't answer. He jumped from his pants and made his way to the bed. He threw himself onto the pillows and blanket and was happy to encounter warm body beside his own. God, he loved Snape. Snape was great. Or should he call him Severus? Se-ve-rus. What a great name.

 _“_ I've missed you,” he sighed dreamily.

 _“_ You've seen me this morning,” came the nonplussed reply.

 _“_ It was ages ago,” Harry said. His hand found Snape's wrist and his foot nudged Snape's calf beneath the blanket.

 _“_ You're drunk,” Snape sat at the bed. His hand came up to grip Harry's jaw. He turned Harry's head sideways, inspecting his face. “What possessed you to imbue yourself to that condition?”

 _“_ Hermione knows,” Harry said. Then, “Nox.” The light from his wand kept shining, however weakly. Harry reached with his hand towards the wand, until he was half-hanging from the edge of the bed. “Nox!” The light went out, even though Harry didn't touch his wand. “Phew, thought I'd have to lift myself from the bed.”

Harry relaxed and tried to get beneath the covers. Severus was terribly unhelpful, just lying there, staring at where Harry's face was. He got the impression Snape was positively fuming, when Harry finally settled.

He immediately tried to cuddle closer to the man. He was stopped.

 _“_ Granger. Knows. What.”

 _“_ Oh, that. That I have feeling for you and you have feeling for me. That's we're together. Sort of.”

 _“_ I don't have feelings...” Snape started angrily.

Harry interrupted. “Well, Death told me you do,” he said airily. “And I'm happy she did, ‘cuz I wasn't sure... nevermind.”

Silence.

Harry started to drift, giving up on the possibility of getting closer to the man, when Snape's voice sounded.

 _“_ Didn't it occur to you, that you were simply manipulated into destroying the Hallows,” Snape whispered dangerously. “Haven't it crossed that thick skull of yours, it was awfully convenient that she choose to reveal my... affections,” Snape spat 'affections' like a foul word, “That she'd done so only to encourage you to do her bidding. Hadn't it occurred to you she simply lied?”

No, it hadn't. It really really hadn't. Harry felt his chest cave in on itself. The sensations was so much worse, because he was drunk. He always thought... He really believed...

 _“_ Oh,” he said completely crushed. “I thought you loved me.”

Snape flinched violently, rocking the bed.

 _“_ I really wanted it to be true,” said Harry lifelessly.

A lie. It was all a lie.

He felt so safe in his knowledge, that Snape really cared for him. When they had sex Harry was unafraid of being used and tossed because he knew Snape loved him. And Harry... He loved the man back. But if Death chose to lie to him... Harry got up from the bed, the floor tilting beneath his feet.

 _“_ Where are you going?” croaked Snape.

 _“_ Why do you care?” Harry asked in the same toneless voice. His chest was aching in grief. Grief over the loss of something he thought he had. Something volatile and imperfect, but _his_. “God, I can't believe I bought it!” he gasped in fury. “Severus Snape _in love._ With me,” Snape flinched again at the word used.

Harry could hardly see the expressions on the man's face, because it was dark. This time, there was no moonlight to cast its light on the bed. The bed where they... Harry thought he was going to be sick.

Snape moved on the bed and the next thing he knew, he was blinking owlishly. The bright light flooded the room. Harry's pain seemed so flat and unremarkable in the artificial lighting. He felt like he was causing unnecessary scene, but couldn't help the prickling in his eyes. 

 _“_ Are you crying?” asked Snape bewildered.

Harry finally saw his face. Two bright red spots graced his cheeks. He looked stiff and his eyes were black as ever, emotions in them indiscernible. Harry sniffed and tried to get rid of his tears, by wiping them with his hands. He felt ashamed to be falling apart. He didn't cry easily, but it seemed that Snape could reach the parts of his heart that could make him emotional.

Snape's face grew stony. He appeared to be battling something, some inner turmoil. Harry turned to leave. He was still very drunk. He had no clothes on.

 _“_ Harry,” Snape whispered faintly.

 _“_ Don't you understand how I feel about you?” Harry said, examining the ceiling, trying not to let anymore tears fall. “What it's like for me to know you don't feel the way I do?” Harry wiped another tear. “Do you think you might... you might ever feel that way about me?”

 _“_ Potter... Harry,” Snape opened his mouth to speak, but grasped his throat, his other hand convulsing on the blankets. “Don't make me say it,” he rasped almost angry.

 _“_ What? What?”

Snape was glaring at him for a few moments. Then he seemed to crumble onto himself. He opened his mouth. “I do. I do, you insolent child. Do you wish me to make declarations of devotion? To prostrate myself before you on my knees? To shower you with roses and compliments? Do you know who you're dealing with?”

Harry started at Snape confused. “You do what?”

But Snape wouldn't utter another word. He stared at Harry, his mouth a thin line. Harry traced the line of their conversation, but couldn't find what Snape meant. He was still a little drunk. Or a lot. “Do you love me?” he asked upfront.

Snape's eyes flashed when he spoke the forbidden word. But he didn't flinch. He stayed silent. They looked at each other, almost without blinking. Harry sat on the nearest stack of books. Even then Snape did not speak. Harry felt hope bloom in his chest, like snowdrop in the early spring. He still felt cold from the knowledge Death could lie to him.

Harry grimaced. “I'll take that as yes,” he joked.

Still Snape wouldn't speak. Harry tried very hard to reason with himself. Surely it wasn't the end of the world if Snape didn't love him back. Why did he have to go and make a scene? He was sure alcohol contributed to his mood, but still, it was no excuse to fall apart. He wanted to apologize to Snape for crying but couldn't find the words.

Harry turned Snape's reaction in his head and inspected it. If he recognized the signs correctly, Snape had confessed he felt something for him. Maybe even love. Harry was sure if Snape didn't feel that way about him, he would say so directly. He wouldn't beat around the bush. All this meant his earlier outburst was pointless.

Death could have, indeed, lied to him. But she didn't.

Now that Harry thought about it, it became apparent that a creature like Death itself could achieve its goals without resorting to lies and trickery. Only in Snape's warped brain such power would immediately come with violations. Besides, Snape had only caught a glimpse of her, but Harry had actually talked to her. He was sure she could be trusted.

 _“_ Potter, stop thinking,” Snape threw the covers away. “Come to bed,” he added with feeling.

 _“_ I was Harry a moment ago.”

 _“_ Fine. Get back here.”

Harry complied.

 

***

 

The next day passed in a haze, like a dream. Harry was so embarrassed for tearing up in front of Snape, he avoided the man. He didn't come down for lunch, but he couldn't miss dinner too, so he went down for the last meal of the day. Snape sat there, reading morning paper which was an unwelcome reminder he was to go to the ministry and face a trial. They only had a couple of days left. Harry wasted a day they could have spent together.

That's why the next morning Harry proposed a walk in the park. Snape had no objection to the morning spent outside and off they went. It was a cloudy day, the heat from the summer still present, making the air stale and stagnant. Snape wore simple trousers and an old worn-out brown jacket. Harry never seen it on him before. He touched the material briefly, earning a surprised glare from the Potions Master. It was really soft.

They've walked in the park and talked about the weather. Harry told Snape about the plans his friends had made about the future. He doubted Snape cared, but he listened to him talk nonetheless. They've had a lunch in a little cafe. It was painted red on the outside, but inside it had soft maroon cushions with wooden walls surrounding them. Harry had a proper meal, but Snape ordered fresh scones with coffee. The man didn't eat much. Harry promised himself if he'd ever get to live around the man again, he'd make sure Snape got proper nourishment. Maybe even gain a stone or two.

They've walked between the alleys and streets and even though Harry had felt himself get wet beneath his armpits and he was dying for a breath of fresh air, a little wiff of a wind and a cold shower, he was happy. Snape told him he had several potions experiments on hold, while he couldn't brew, and at least one of them looked very promising.

He reminded Harry so much of Half-Blood Prince in that moment, he couldn't help but yearn to be forever close to the man before his eyes. They only got back when the sun was setting over London. Harry was pleasantly tired; his old sneakers hadn't appreciated the walk, however. He saw a tear appear on the sole. He'd have to go to muggle London and buy himself a new pair.

He looked at Snape's shoes. They were a worn-out pair of leather shoes with tiny buttons in the corners. Trust Snape to have buttons even on his shoes! Harry was pretty sure they were decorative. Like, eighty percent sure. Snape noticed him examining his shoes.

 _“_ What, pray tell, has captured your attention?” he flickered his wand and the lights in the house had had turned on.

 _“_ Nothing. It's my shoes. There's a tear,” Harry bent his knee and captured his ankle, trying to show the man his shoe.

 _“_ There's a useful spell for that,” Snape pointed his wand. “Sigillum Fractura!”

The tear disappeared and Harry stared. “Was that literally seal fracture in latin?”

Snape shrugged. “It works. Does wonders for the tears in clothes too.”

 _“_ Huh,” Harry didn't even think to use a spell. Hermione probably would.

Snape turned and went up the stairs with Harry following him close behind. Harry went into Snape's room after the man. With a sinking feeling he noticed all the books were gone, along with Snape's personal things. The man had packet already.

 _“_ I'm going to testify and show them your memories,” Harry said fervently. “I still have them.”

Snape took off his jacket and then his shoes. He changed them for a pair of midnight blue slippers with stars on them. Harry watched fascinated with a picture of domestic Snape.

 _“_ You will do no such thing,” he said when he was done. “I do not wish the entirety of Wizengamot to poke their noses into my private life. I do not wish to be mocked by the Daily Prophet on the way I lived my life, the decisions I made and the consequences that I've ripped. If you wish to testify, I will not interfere, but leave my memories out of this, Potter.”

 _“_ You almost died for saving Wizarding World, you deserve to be hailed a hero. You've done invaluable work for the Order. You've protected me for years and endured Voldemort's wrath. You've prevented the Carrows from inflicting a lasting damage on students...”

 _“_ I see you've been practicing your speeches already,” remarked Snape sarcastically.

 _“_ Severus,” Harry chided.

 _“_ Yes, that's my name, Potter,” Snape sat at the foot of the bed and smirked.

Harry sighed. He really didn't want to have this conversation right now. He knew he would do anything to keep Snape out of prison, even if it led to the man loathing him afterwards. It didn't matter if Snape would end up hating him, because he would be free and, hopefully, he'll be honored for the work he'd done to defeat the Snake Faced Bastard.

A change of tactics was in order.

 _“_ It's one of our last nights together,” Harry said tentatively stepping closer to the man.

 _“_ I'm aware,” the man gaze grew heated.

Harry took Snape's hand in his. He traced the lines on the palm slowly, tenderly. He was rewarded with a sigh. Harry traced the lines circling Snape's wrist. The skin was impossibly thin there, revealing a thin network of veins.

 _“_ You must find me terribly inexperienced.”

The hand inspected captured his own and Snape brought Harry's palm to his lips. Harry felt soft kiss placed on each finger. A nest of butterflies made a home out of Harry's stomach and chest. He could almost see their colors behind his eyelids. Blue, turquoise, azure, an entire ocean of wings, flapping inside of him.

 _“_ Only terribly young,” Snape kissed his wrist, scraping his teeth along the bone there. “Naive, stubborn, hot-headed, self-righteous...”

 _“_ Okay, okay,” Harry laughed.

The lines around Snape's mouth softened. “Lovely.”

Harry felt like he was jewel, penetrated by the rays of the sun. Shiny and sparkling, new and perfect. Snape made him feel that way. Full of light and tougher than a stone. He felt like nothing could hurt him in that moment. Still, he blushed, embarrassed.

 _“_ What? My hands? They're nothing special.”

And they weren’t. Short and stubby, with square fingernails cut carelessly. Unlike Severus's own beautiful elegant hands, but Snape kissed Harry's hands anyway. Harry reached with mouth and placed a mellow kiss on Snape's lips.

 _“_ What exactly do you want?”

 _“_ Everything,” Harry said breathlessly. “Please.”

Snape nodded his agreement, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. They helped each other strip. Harry traced the line of buttons on Snape's shirt and then undid them one by one. They were standing very close, sharing same breath with Snape's hands resting on Harry's hipbones, massaging him gently. When all the button were undone Harry pulled the material away from Snape's shoulders.

The man tensed, the line of his jaw sharpening. Harry was confused for moment, before he saw it. The ugly scar of Dark Mark. Faded and barely there, but there nonetheless. Harry placed a hand on it fearlessly. Snape's whole body froze, his face turned away from the mark, his eyes blinking rapidly.

 _“_ It's alright,” Harry said gently, soothingly.

And it was. There was no horcrux to hear the call of its master and rear its ugly head. No pain along Harry's skull, his scar is blissfully numb and the mark did not come alive, did not darken under Harry touch.

Harry looked his fill beyond the mark. Snape's chest was sparsely haired, the skin milky white. Unlike his face it didn't have a yellow tinge. There were two small brown nipples, with patches of hair around them. Harry wanted to taste them immediately. There were thin pale scars adorning his chest. Harry didn't have to ask about them. He saw Voldemort resorting to physical punishments for his followers in his visions.

When he looked up, Snape was staring at him with molten heat in his eyes. Darker than before, hungry and wanting, he looked at him like he wanted to consume Harry whole. He tugged at his tee, lifting the fabric away from Harry's body and caressing the skin possessively. Harry felt like a present, unwrapped with great deal of care and eagerness.

With a flick of his wrist Snape sent Harry’s glasses off to a nightstand.

They worked on each other's pants. Harry bit his lip: he's been naked in Snape's presence before and there was a familiar rush of pleasure and vulnerability at being exposed. Snape gazed at him, his attention focused solely on Harry. Harry basked in it like a cat warming up in the sun.

He tossed his jeans away and Snape took him by the hand and lead him to the bed. Harry was jittery with nerves and excitement. He felt himself shudder, although it was neither cold nor windy. The silence was too much to bear, he felt unsure for a moment.

 _“_ Do you want me to lay down or...?” he asked. His voice was shaking.

 _“_ You're having second thoughts,” Snape observed calmly. He withdrew slightly.

 _“_ No!” Harry caught him by the hand and placed a gentle kiss on a shoulder near to him. “I'm sure I want this.”

Snape shook his head. His hair brushed his shoulders. Harry knew they were soft to the touch.

 _“_ Have you done this before?”

 _“_ When? Between chasing Horcruxes and running from Voldemort?” Harry asked, his voice full of irony. Nerves, it's just nerves he told himself.

 _“_ In your dorm, perhaps. Experimenting with your peers,” Snape replied calmly.

 _“_ No, nothing like that,” Harry sat on the bed.

Snape kissed him on top of his head. It was sweet, but decidedly unsexy.

 _“_ Yet you think you want this?”

 _“_ Severus,” Harry said suddenly amused. “I want you. It's not a hard thing to figure out. Just kiss me, alright?”

When the man didn't move Harry reached and drew the man into the kiss. They drifted onto bed, with the older man on top of Harry. They slid against each other and Harry marveled at how warm Snape felt against his skin. When Snape's weight pinned him against the matress, Harry felt his cock respond for the first time. It pulsed needily and Harry's kisses grew sloppier. He was surrounded by Snape's scent, his lilac aftershave and something that was just Snape.

 _“_ May I?” Harry reached between their bodies and stroked Severus's cock through his underwear.

He felt a confidence in him rise, as he traced the outline and felt Snape harden underneath his touch.

 _“_ He's happy to see me,” he grinned.

Snape peppered Harry's face with kisses, paying a special attention to Harry's jaw and his ears. Harry smiled brilliantly and rocked his hips against the man. Snape's tongue traced the shell of his ear and he moaned.

 _“_ Let's take these off,” the man rose above him and traced his hands down Harry's sides. He tugged on Harry's underwear.

 _“_ Yours too,” Harry gasped as he shrugged his undies.

Snape rolled down to the side and took off his underwear with one swift motion. Harry's mouth watered. His hand went to his own cock, giving it an experimental tug while he was drinking in the sight of Snape's burgeoning erection. The man was on him the next moment, licking at his neck and causing a delicious shiver to pass through Harry's body.

Harry felt Snape align their thighs and then he felt Snape cock against his own member. He moaned needily, wanting to taste the man again, to sink to his knees and take it in his mouth. The older man intercepted his hand traveling south and whispered:

 _“_ Not yet.”

He licked Harry's collar bone and bit it lightly. Harry was addicted to the feel of Snape's hot mouth on his skin. So far he loved everything Snape was doing. The man pinched his nipple and Harry yelped.

 _“_ Too hard?” Severus smirked. “Let's fix my mistake, shall we?”

The man bent down and sucked the abused nipple in his mouth. The sensation went straight to Harry's cock. Harry whined helplessly and rutted against the older man's cock. His knees fell apart and he wrapped his legs around his lover.

 _“_ Oh, please,” he gasped.

Snape's mouth played with his right nipple. His tongue swirled around tracing circles around it. He scraped his teeth on it, barely, just to let Harry feel the caress. Harry was impossibly hard already. The space between their bodies grew wetter, as Harry's cock leaked precum.

Harry felt Snape pay attention to his other nipple, as his throat released the sounds he didn't know he was capable off. It felt so good. Harry felt the man place open mouthed kisses on his stomach and he writhed in need. Snape placed two fingers on his lips. Harry opened his mouth and swallowed them, like he would do with other part of the man's anatomy.

He glimpsed Snape's eyes and they were staring at his mouth with an intense craving. Snape thrust his fingers in and out of Harry's mouth, fucking him. His other hand cupped Harry's balls. Harry sucked on the man's hand greedily. The sensation was erotic, almost dirty and he could imagine what Snape's imagination was replaying in that moment. His cock jerked.

Snape's hand playing with his balls felt amazing. Only when Snape's hand reached lower, behind his sack and caressed the sensitive area there, Harry tensed up. The older man withdrew his fingers and picked up his wand. He whispered a spell and Harry felt a tingling sensation around his entrance and inside, strangely.

 _“_ What?”

 _“_ A hygienic charm.”

Harry relaxed onto the pillows. “Oh, good. I haven't had shower today.”

Snape smirked. “Worried you're not your freshest self for the occasion?”

 _“_ Well, yes. I mean, I didn't know we would... you know, tonight.”

 _“_ Ah, this was a spur of the moment decision,” Snape said, his voice betraying his disappointment.

 _“_ Not really. I knew I wanted to go all the way with you eventually.”

The Potions Master regarded him for a moment. Then he slapped Harry on calf. “Turn on your stomach.”

Harry complied.

 _“_ On your hands and knees, Harry.”

Harry felt marginally better when Snape used his name. He assumed the position and felt Snape's hand massage his back. Gradually he relaxed into the bed sheets, laying with his knees bent beneath him. Snape kissed the line of his spine, going lower and lower. When Snape's hands palmed the globes of his butt, he buried his face in the pillow, feeling a peculiar sensation writhing in his stomach. It was half shame, half excitement and he was torn between two impulses. To push his behind back and expose himself further and to hide beneath the sheets.

Harry felt Snape's tongue touch him, lapping up and down his crack. The sensation sent a jolt straight to his cock. The older man parted his cheeks and Harry closed his eyes in shame. God, Snape was _looking_ at him. Right. There.

The next thing Harry knew something wet and hot probed his pucker.

 _“_ No, don't!” he gasped trying to wiggle away from something so indecent.

Snape held him firm and Harry felt him suck insatiably on his hole. Harry keened helplessly, humping the sheets, feeling like a filthy wanton thing, enjoying something so completely sordid. He pushed his bum onto Snape's face.

 _“_ Please,” he whined.

Snape's tongue thrust inside him, never going too far and Harry abandoned all shame, moaning into the pillow and feeling the pleasure build. He heard the man summon something and felt slippery fingers probe his hole.

 _“_ I need you to relax for me.”

Nimble fingers probed at his entrance and Harry felt a mild burning sensation, as the first finger entered his hole. He tried to relax and not resist the intrusion. A second finger joined the first and Harry felt impossibly stretched. His knees were tired and he wanted to lie on the bed. He would also prefer to do what they were doing face to face and not staring at a pillow.

 _“_ Mind if I turn?” he mumbled into the pillow.

Snape fingers withdrew immediately. “You want me to stop?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

 _“_ No,” Harry turned and was relieved to see Snape's face again. “I just want to do this face to face.”

Snape's shoulders relaxed. “It would be easier for you otherwise.”

 _“_ I don't care,” Harry reached and kissed the man. The delicious slide of tongues was exactly what Harry needed. He wrapped his hand around Snape's cock and pumped, feeling his own cock quiver in pleasure, hardening further.

Snape kissed him without any pretense of tenderness. It was a wild, hungry kiss. The man's lips were desperate and hard, his hands grasping Harry by the shoulders. They pulled apart panting, starry-eyed. Harry wanted the man to have him. To pin him to the bed and make him feel his need.

 _“_ Will you... I'm ready,” he whispered. “Please.”

 _“_ Yes.”

Snape tilted him until Harry was once again lying on his back. Harry was sorry to let go of the man's cock. The man grabbed a pillow and laid it under Harry's arse. Harry spread his legs hesitantly, feeling exposed.

Slowly the man traced his hands along the length of Harry's legs. His eyes had a fervent possessive gleam in them. He brought Harry's legs up, until they rested on his shoulder. Gently the man stroked along Harry's calf and then placed a kiss there.

Harry felt like he was bleeding devotion from his heart, basking in the warmth of the moment. Eventually Snape's hands drifted to his groin, playing with his cock and then venturing lower. Harry saw Snape align their bodies and take hold of his cock. He braced himself, trying to be brave and sensing it would still hurt, no matter how gentle his lover was.

A familiar stretching and burning sensation came and Snape urged Harry to relax. Harry honestly tried to loosen his muscles, but the pain shot up his arse and he felt his cock go soft. The intrusive sensation quieted after a minute. He concentrated on Snape's face to distract himself. The lines on Snape's forehead were drawn and his face was twisted in concentration. Harry felt Snape move deeper in him and twist his hips for another angle.

Snape moved his body up a few inches and down, rolling his hip and thrusting shallowly into Harry. Harry was confused, but it wasn't like he was an expert on what sex was supposed to look like. After another rearrangement something flared inside of him and he moaned in enjoying the sensation.

 _“_ There,” Snape gasped.

The older man's hand grasped his cock and tugged. They were moving together and Snape's thrusts rubbed at that sweet little spot inside him. The pain dulled and Harry didn't feel the discomfort anymore. He felt his cock take interest in the proceedings once more. Snape stroked him to hardness and then bent down to kiss him.

Harry melted into the kiss. Now that he wasn't hurting anymore, he found the sensation of being fucked impossibly heady. He felt out of control, at mercy of Snape's desire for him. He met Severus's thrusts and howled when Snape's prick touched him in the right place. He grabbed onto the man's hands, holding for dear life as the feelings crested like a wave. Too much to bear and Harry's moans sounded higher, and Snape would slow down their rhythm.

Harry felt himself reach close to climax. His fingernails dug painfully into Severus's forearms and he whined pitifully.

 _“_ I'm... I'm...”

Snape evidently understood him. He thrusts became harder and shorter. The bed creaked underneath them, as the man impaled Harry on his cock. Snape was sucking on Harry's nipples, his body pinning Harry to the bed.

He could take no more.

 _“_ Oh, God,” Harry wailed as he came, spurting his semen between their bodies.

Snape slammed into him once, twice and released a hoarse grunt. Harry felt disoriented with pleasure for a moment. He felt the man slip from his entrance wetly. Lazy and sated, Snape collapsed on top of Harry, burying his face in Harry's neck.

Gradually Harry became aware of the ticking of the cloak on the bedside table, then the wetness beneath his bum, the thin film of perspiration on his skin, Severus’ weight on his body and his breath ghosting his chin. He lay there, brimming with happiness and oddly, a thousand questions sprang to his mind.

Did this make them a couple? Did Harry have to ask Severus to have sex with him exclusively from now on or was that implied? Did Severus like having sex with him? Did he enjoy it as much as Harry did? What would it feel like to be the one to do the buggering?

 _“_ I can hear you thinking,” Snape's voice sounded. “Stop.”

 _“_ I quite enjoyed that,” answered Harry. He sounded breathless and giddy even to his own ears.

 _“_ Mhm,” confirmed the man. He grabbed his wand from the bedside, which caused him to break their embrace. A fact, that upset Harry greatly. The man whispered something and the wetness beneath Harry's bum disappeared.

 _“_ Oh, thanks! I wasn't sure what to do about that.”

 _“_ Now go sleep,” grunted the man, lying down beside Harry.

The boy inched closer to the man and insinuated himself under his upper arm, half lying on the man's chest. There. That was a lot better, Harry decided and closed his eyes. He drifted almost immediately.

 

***

 

They've had only two days left before the trial and Harry tried to make the best use of them. Naturally, it meant they wouldn't get out of bed and spent every waking hour with their limbs intertwined. Harry tried to put his mind off his growing unease and was somewhat successful, when he and Snape were making love. They've read books in the bed, eaten dinners there, showered together.

In one of those moment Severus spent half an hour lathering up Harry's entire body with soap. He paid careful attention to each of his toes and fingers, his back, his legs and his bum. Harry enjoyed the attention greatly. He found no special joy in being pampered, but being washed by Snape held a quiet warm sort of intimacy. The one Harry never quite experienced before with another human being.

The morning of the first of September found Harry waking after a restless sleep. He wasn't enclosed in warm embrace, or wrapped around his lover, that itself alarmed him greatly. He opened his eyes and it was about to dawn. But only just. He eyed the room suspiciously, alarmed by the absence of his lover.

In the twilight Harry saw a shape, sitting quietly on a chair. Harry lit up a Lumos and discovered it was Severus. Fully dressed, he sat ramrod straight on the chair beside the bed. There was no book on his lap, nothing to occupy his time.

 _“_ You've been waiting till I wake up?” croaked Harry, his voice thick from sleep.

 _“_ There's still time,” replied the man enigmatically.

 _“_ You must have been bored, sitting in darkness alone,” Harry yawned and put his glasses on.

 _“_ Undoubtedly.”

 _“_ Right. I'm gonna be ready in five minutes,” Harry jumped from the bed and winced. It was a passionate night.

Even in darkness Harry could sense his lover tensing up and looking ashamed of himself.

 _“_ I've hurt you.”

Harry beamed at nothing in particular. “Just sore,” he liked this pain, he needed what it reminded him of.

Harry opted for a quick shower, although he loathed to leave Snape alone in the room, staring at empty walls. He discovered purpling bruises on his abdomen and on his right hipbone. They sat there, lovely, in the shades of mauve and Harry wanted nothing more than for them to stain him permanently. He traced them with his fingers: he could tell exactly which kiss had caused them. He remembered the last night vividly.

He suspected Severus would be detained for the trial. There were other trials in the Daily Prophet and all of the defendants languished in the Ministry cells or Azakaban, during the proceedings. Harry would go back to Hogwarts and get back to his studies like the last year hadn't happened at all. He had a heavy feeling weighting his stomach, the anxiety over future separation.

He exited the shower fully dressed, his hair dried by the spell, sticking out wilder than usual. Severus was standing by the table, staring at the window. The light was only just beginning to paint the room in shadows.

 _“_ Are you alright? Severus?” Harry moved to the window and put his hands around the man.

 _“_ I have gathered my things in a bag. You'll find the bag in the closet,” Snape's hands covered his own, “It contains several books on The Dark Arts and Potions prohibited by the Ministry. Aside from my clothes and collection of potions. I trust you to be careful with them. My house, however, contains more. There's secret compartment under my bedroom floor, I'm sure you'll find it if you put your mind to it – it contains a collection of restricted books on Dark Magic, including rare volumes that claim to possess the knowledge predating Merlin.”

 _“_ Why are you telling me this?”

 _“_ Because, Potter, I trust you to take care of them in event that I'm convicted on my charges. I doubt the Ministry would find the books if they raided my house, however, it is better safe than sorry, is it not? I've acquired my collection through travel and connections, with a salary of a Hogwarts Professor and I want it to be in the safe hands. Give the books to Granger, if you must. The research that could be done with counter measures to Cruciatus alone could make someone's career.”

 _“_ What about your potions?” Harry asked, curious.

 _“_ What about them?”

 _“_ You've got an entire book with improved recipes to the potions you've made when you were sixteen. I'm sure you have the improvements written somewhere else. Don't you want to, I don't know – share it?”

They were standing so close and Harry buried his face in Snape's back. He could feel each breath, each word said by his lover. He never wanted to let go.

 _“_ I've hoped to publish them under my own name,” there was a bitterness to Snape's deep voice and Harry found himself saddened by it. “There are more, of course, I've told you about it recently. But they do not present the same interest to the public. The rare concoctions for curses long forgotten.”

 _“_ Well, I'll make sure we publish it with you as an author.”

Severus snorted unkindly. “The people would shun such publication and ignore its use.”

 _“_ Not if you're exonerated.”

 _“_ Harry...” said Snape softly.

 _“_ No, listen, I know you're not most positive person, but I promise you, we will make it! Even if I have to break you out!”

The man chuckled. “Foolish boy,” he turned and took Harry's chin into his hand. He tilted Harry's head sideways and placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw. Harry was immediately warmed by the gesture. His heart beat faster and his breath grew heavy. He wondered if would always have this reaction to such casual affection. He felt like a plant, placed in the gentle heat of the sun, finally watered enough, finally growing strong.

 _“_ It is time.”

They've conquered the distance to Ministry in couple of minutes. They used the floo and Harry had to remind himself not to hover over Severus like his lover and give the man his distance. The atrium was bustling with activity. Harry stepped from the fireplace and immediately was thrust into the crowd. He watched for the glimpse of the dark cloak. When he found Snape, he walked a few paces behind him. The man was heading to the lifts.

 _“_ Harry! Harry! Over here,” a familiar voice shouted.

Harry looked around until his eyes found a patch of red hair. His friends were there.

 _“_ Severus, wait. Ron and Hermione are here,” he called after the man.

It turned out not only Ron and Hermione showed up. Luna, Neville and Susan were all there. They were standing in front of Ministry Munchies, each holding a large cup of coffee. Hermione thrust a cup in his direction.

 _“_ Here, just like you like it. Cream and two sugars.”

 _“_ Thanks, Hermione. Hello everyone,” he greeted, smiling at his friends.

Severus caught up with him and everyone turned to greet him too.

 _“_ I've got one for you too, Professor,” said his bushy friend cheerfully. “Black, no sugar, no milk. I didn't know which you would prefer.”

Snape paused, clearly surprised. He accepted the drink and thanked Hermione for it. Harry was really grateful for his friend's thoughtfulness. They haven't had any breakfast and Harry was beginning to feel a bit queasy. Part of it was the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but part of it was a simple hunger.

 _“_ We've got fresh scones too,” offered Ron.

Harry took one from the box his friend offered. He took a bite and then spoke with his mouth full.

 _“_ Wat ar you doin' here?” he slurred.

 _“_ Well I'm having my coffee before work,” said Susan. “But we're here for moral support, mainly. I can't be at the proceedings, sorry Professor,” the girl addressed Snape. The clock behind them chimed eight. “Oops, I'd rather get going,” she drank the rest of her drink in one large swig, tossed the mug in the nearby rubbish bin and gave Harry a quick hug, before running away.

Harry had not put in good word for Dudley with her. He suspected with the way things were going between the two he didn’t need to.

 _“_ Hermione and I are skipping the trip to Hogwarts. We've talked to McGonagall and she approved of our decision attend the first hearing.” Ron coughed uncomfortably. “She even said to wish you good luck, Professor.”

 _“_ Thank you Mr. Weasley,” said the man dryly.

 _“_ Well, we're half an hour early. Let's go to the courtroom and wait there. Just to be sure,” Hermione proposed.

Despite the time being early the courtroom was full of people. The Prophet said something about an open hearing, Harry remembered. The room was magically enlarged and full of journalists. Harry was surprised to see Draco Malfoy, sitting on the stands with his mother. They've saw Snape entering the room and Narcissa grasped her sons elbow. They stood up and Draco moved to get out of their row.

It became clear Severus saw them when he excused himself and went straight to Malfoys. Harry's friends found them seats near the top row and Harry heard a gasp from a nearby stranger. “It's Harry Potter himself!” the man whispered loudly to his elderly friend. They were both wearing lime green robes with sign of bone and a wand. What were healers doing at the trial of Death Eater?

 _“_ My gran wanted to come too,” mumbled Neville. “She was very upset with Dumbledore's death. I told her Professor isn't as guilty, as we thought he was,” Neville scratched his chin. He grew a handsome beard over the summer. “She's developed a back problem. Yesterday she overworked herself in the garden and couldn't come.”

 _“_ I think that's why so many people are here today,” Luna added. “They all want to see justice come to Headmaster's murderer,” Harry flinched. Luna was unperturbed. “Dumbledore seemed like a person who would have had many friends. I think they should have made accommodations for centaurs and merpeople, if they wanted to come.”

Harry squeezed the little bottle with the memories in his pocket. His eyes never left Severus, who was standing at the other side of the room and talking quietly with Narcissa Malfoy. She looked quite lovely in her dark green robe. A haughty expression left her face and without it she appeared to be a rather striking woman. Cold, but beautiful.

Despite the scone he ate earlier, Harry felt even more ill, his stomach swarming with what felt like a swarm of angry bees. Harry tried to distract himself from going sick.

Draco could have looked better. He had circles under his eyes; he was all sharp long limbs and angles, never gaining the weight he lost during sixth year. But his face was shining with gratitude. He looked at his mother conversing with his former teacher and there was humbleness in the set of his shoulder, Harry never had seen before.

Harry knew, of course, that Snape killed Dumbledore so Draco wouldn't have to. He was still miffed at the attention the boy got from his lover. He didn't hold grudge towards the blonde. But he's just spent two wonderful days glued to the hip with his lover and some of that possessive energy lingered inside his body.

 _“_ Harry,” Hermione tugged at his sleeve sharply. “Look!”

Harry blinked and shifted his attention to the center of the room. Three Aurors had just entered the courtroom. One of them was Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry waved at him. Kingsley spotted them and smiled. He said something to the Aurors that were accompanying him and went to climb the stairs heading to Harry and his friends.

The two Aurors, however, headed straight to Snape. The taller one gestured at the seat in the middle of the room and Severus nodded. He said his goodbyes to lady Malfoy and went to sit in the chair, with two Aurors escorting him from the sides.

A murmur rose among the people.

Harry looked at his watch. There were only five minutes till eight thirty. Harry was trying to catch his lover’s eye, but Snape was looking straight ahead, ignoring everything in the room.

 _“_ Good Morning,” greeted Kingsley.

A discordant chorus of voices greeted him back.

 _“_ I see Severus hasn’t fled the country. I have to thank you for that Harry,” spoke the man gently.

Harry was about to get really defensive, when Hermione cast the Muffliato charm.

 _“_ The Professor was a member of the Order,” she said quietly. “I'm sure the other members will do everything in their power to help prove him innocent.”

Kingsley pointed at Luna and Neville. “Is it wise to speak about this among the strangers, Ms. Granger?”

 _“_ They can be trusted,” responded Ron.

The members of Wizengamor chose that moment to enter the room and Harry stomach dropped. He felt himself break into a sweat, watching as various members got seated in their high chairs. He clutched at the memories he had desperately. Severus could request an interrogation under the influence of Veritaserum, but Harry knew the man would never allow it.

The meeting commenced and Head Warlock cleared his throat. He was a brown skinned man with a short white beard. He appeared to be holding a long white wand, an uncomfortable resemblance to the Elder Wand for Harry.

Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He felt Hermione grasp his hand.

A loud gasps interrupted the hearing and Harry felt a light flood his eyelids. He opened his eyes and was greeted to a sight of bright crimson light shining in the center of the room. Out of nowhere, a phoenix swooped down and circled the room. It deposited a large package right in front of Head Warlock.

The bird landed on Snape's shoulder and one of the judges stood up.

 _“_ What is this spectacle, Mr. Snape?!” he yelled, stomping his foot. “Are trying to intimidate the members of Wizengamot?”

Severus in turn sat at the chair, his face betraying no emotions. His hands though were clutched into fists, resting on his knees. He paid no attention to the bird sitting on his shoulder. His eyes reminded Harry of black coals in that moment, so dull and lifeless they seemed.

 _“_ What's in the package?” demanded another judge.

 _“_ Quiet, quiet!” the Head Warlock took the package into his arms and untied the letter, that came with the package. His eyebrows shot up. “This is a letter from Albus Dumbledore himself!”

Snape eyes flickered to the letter. His eyes widened. Something kindled in their depths. It was a small fleeting gesture, but it spoke volumes about his surprise.

 _“_ Impossible!” gasped the middle aged woman in large spectacles.

 _“_ Yet I recognize the handwriting,” murmured the Head Warlock. He opened the letter and another few minutes were spent in silence, as he dived into its contents.

Harry felt the beginnings of hope blossom in his chest. He knew the bird was Fawkes the moment he laid eyes on it. Dumbledore must have foreseen this trial. He hadn't left Snape to the mercy of Wizarding World without any help. Now that Harry thought about it, he couldn't believe he thought Dumbledore hadn't left some contingency plan in case they've won the war and Snape survived.

 _“_ Merlin, this is unheard of! The letter claims that in this box there's an assortment of memories and evidence, proving the innocence of Severus Snape.” announced the Head Warlock.

The courtroom erupted into chaos. The letter was being passed around between members of Wizengamot. The journalists were shouting and the couple of mediwizards, sat next to them, was whispering rather loudly.

Severus was looking straight at Harry, his expression betraying shock. Harry smiled back at the man, confident now, that everything was going to end well. Fawkes was rubbing his beak in Snape's hair, but the man didn't appear to notice.

 _“_ Hermione, what do phoenixes eat?”

 _“_ They're herbivores. Why?”

 _“_ I think I need to buy Fawkes a giant snack,” beamed Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left!


	7. Chapter 7

Despite the trial continuing for the next two months, something completely unheard of in the Wizarding World, Severus Snape was found not guilty in the murder of Albus Dumbledore and all subsequent charges. The Prophet published everything pertaining to the trial. Every week there was a fresh photo of Snape in the paper, taken right in the courtroom. McGonagall opened her floo for Harry's visits to the Ministry. She was very gracious and treated Harry to biscuits and tea afterwards.

The first two months of Hogwarts were a complete blur to Harry. When a final verdict came, Hermione gave him a passionate speech about being invested in his studies and Harry was forced to pay attentions to his lessons. Harry knew they released Severus and gave him full access to his vaults, but he hadn’t talked to the man since that first day of September.

Harry didn't have an owl and couldn't write to the man. He tried to use Pigwidgeon, but he never got a reply. McGonagall understood why Harry had to attend Snape's hearings, but that's when her patience with him ended. She prohibited him from leaving the school before Christmas holidays and Harry was at a loss what to do.

For the first time since he burned it, he missed his cloak. Slowly, gradually, the summer started to look like a forbidden dream to him. Something he made up in his mind, something unreal and ephemeral. At the beginning of November another news came. The Masons have been adopted by a kind Irish family. The middle aged couple was never able to conceive and this was the year they've finally decided to adopt. They've taken all three of the children home, delighted to have a big family, something they've dreamed of since they've entered a marriage.

Harry was happy for them. It was a simple, uncomplicated feeling and he cherished it. Rarely now he felt something so sunny. Mostly he missed the dark and broody Potions Master. There were so many times when he just wanted to talk to the man, nothing more. To share his worries, to talk about mundane things that made up his life.

He was barred from Quidditch, as was Ron. He could really use the distraction the game could provide, but as they were technically a year older than other seventh years and the Headmistress thought it unfair if they competed against them. The rule included all muggleborn students that missed their seventh year because of the war. Ron was devastated by the news. Together with Harry they flew every weekend, when the Quidditch pitch was free. Harry enjoyed the wind even when it was freezing outside. He flew circles around the school and chased the snitch, given to him by Madam Hooch.

Among the everyday people a troubling movement began to rise. The parents of the students, who've attended Hogwarts during Carrow's reign began to advocate for another trial for then Headmaster. They've wanted him to answer for all the torture, that happened in the walls of school, including the changes in the curriculum calling for eradication of muggles. They didn't care that Snape was under deep cover and couldn't stop the awful things Carrows did to the students. Prophet published their concerns on the pages among gossip of celebrities. Nobody yet took them seriously, said Hermione. But it didn't stop Harry from worrying.

The Christmas holidays were rapidly approaching and for the first time Harry began to gather his things to get ready to leave the school. Hermione and Ron were going to Burrow, but Harry announced he wasn't going with them. This led to an uncomfortable conversation between him and Ron, where his friend tried to persuade him to join his family during the holidays and where Harry insisted he wanted to be alone to think things through and rest from the busy schoolwork. He still promised to be there with the Weasley family on the Christmas day itself. He just wouldn’t stay at their house.

Harry, of course, didn't plan to stew in the gloominess of Grimmauld Place alone for an entire Christmas. He had other plans. He didn't know if Snape still lived at Spinner's End or if he'd left the country, but he planned to search for the man and he knew where to start. He left Hogwarts with his friends and called a taxi to transport his things to Grimmauld Place. However, when it was all done with, he didn't waste any time and apparated away.

It was already dark outside and Harry sneaked along the neglected streets like a thief, trying not to attract any attention. He distinguished Snape's house among the others immediately. It alone, among abandoned buildings, had a light in its windows. Snape was home. Unless, of course, he sold the property to some unsuspecting muggle, but Harry really doubted that.

Harry smoothed his mop of hair and knocked on the door. Nothing happened. He knocked again, louder this time. He bit lip, a nervous jitter traveling along his bones. There was a loud cursing behind the door and it flew opened, almost hitting Harry on the nose.

Snape stared at him bewildered. The door banged shut. Harry blinked. Oh, this was how it was going to be, is it? Harry took out his wand and charmed the nearest rocks to drum on Snape's door. The door shook under the onslaught with heavy rocks threatening to take it off its hinges altogether. They've raised quite some noise, but Harry was done with being ignored.

 _“_ Hey, Snape!” he yelled angrily. “Are you really afraid to meet me?!”

The door flew open, but this time Harry was ready. He pushed through immediately, letting himself inside. He closed the door behind him and faced very agitated Potions Master. Snape didn't look any different. He had the same yellowish tinge to his face and same black eyes. He was clean shaven and didn't look like someone wallowing in his misery.

Harry anger spiked. “I knew you were avoiding me!”

Snape sneered, showing his yellow uneven teeth. “You must think you're welcome everywhere you go, Potter. As arrogant, as your father. Always barging in uninvited, like you own the place. Tell me, did the fame of defeater of the Dark Lord go to your head? You must be showered with attention at Hogwarts.”

Harry drew back, shocked. _This_ is what they were back at? Snape had never once brought up his father over the summer and now after four month they were back at the animosity and hatred? Was this really happening? Did Harry imagine this summer?

 _“_ I can't believe you. I've been trying to contact you all this time and you were simply ignoring me!” Harry cried.

 _“_ Trying? Trying?” Snape laughed. It was an ugly, mocking sound. “One letter does not constitute as trying.”

Harry frowned.

 _“_ You know I don't have an owl, I've used Pigwidgeon once, but I couldn't send him again without making Ron suspicious,” Harry took of his scarf. Snape eyes flickered to his naked throat. Something dangerous passed in his gaze. Harry started unbuttoning his winter jacket. It was really hot inside the house. “But you didn't reply to my letter. McGonagall forbid me from leaving school. Why didn't you?”

Snape glared at him. “I don't have time for this,” the man turned abruptly and strode out of the living room.

Harry paused. Just seeing the man again lifted his spirits. He was angry, but even fighting with Snape was better than missing him all these months, without knowing if the man was well or not. He ventured deeper into the house, following the noise. He left his jacket in the living room along with his scarf.

Harry found Snape in the kitchen. It was a small cramped space: all four walls were aligned with shelves with jars on them. A middle sized cauldron stood on the small square table. Despite the large window the room was half-dark. The air was humid with the vapor from the cauldron and smelled faintly of sulfur.

 _“_ Oh, you're brewing,” Harry said surprised.

 _“_ Some of us have to work for the living.”

Harry sat on the stool next to the window. “Do you sell your potions?” he asked genuinely interested.

Snape added dry leaves to the mixture and stirred the potion clockwise.

 _“_ Yes, I sell them in Diagon Alley to the vendor. Now that you've satisfied your curiosity, I assume you'll leave.”

 _“_ Well, I'm staying.”

That earned him another glare. Harry watched with rapt attention as Severus brewed the potion. The man moved with precise grace and elegance. Yet he would stop and throw Harry hostile looks every now and then, unaware how enchanted Harry was with his brewing.

 _“_ You've never paid attention in class,” accused Snape.

 _“_ Thank God!” Harry laughed. “Imagine me fancying you, while I was still in school. That would be a disaster.”

Snape looked amused momentarily. Harry continued further.

 _“_ But I'm sure you had your share of students who crushed on you. Did they send you Valentines? Clandestine letters filled with romance? Tried to woo you after class? Maybe even when they were in detention?”

Harry's stomach choose that moment to make rumble loudly.

 _“_ You're hungry,” noted Snape. He returned to his potion. “I've had a short, but dreadful span of years after my late twenties and in my early thirties, when the students I went to school with have graduated and I was young enough to attract that sort of sentiment from the female population of school. I've had all of the above. The students who tried to get detentions with me were quickly disappointed, however. When I've detected an interest beyond simple admiration I gave them detentions with Filch. And had instructed him to be particularly unpleasant.”

The man took the ladle away from the cauldron. “It should simmer for ten more minutes.”

 _“_ Were there only girls who fancied you?” Harry asked, curious.

 _“_ No,” replied Snape shortly. “It was a very trying string of years. The students affected were usually the sort to romanticize my difficult character. Nothing would deter them: not my looks, not my personality. I've taken a habit to punish them with taking points and eventually through social pressure and natural mutability of youth, they would come to their senses. But taking points very liberally from those who annoyed me proved to be... addictive,” Snape finished the sentence by smirking nastily.

Harry's chest was no longer aching and cold. He felt tentative warmth spread through his ribs and fire ignite inside him. Harry wondered if he was wearing rose-colored glasses, when it came to Snape.

 _“_ Were you ever tempted to... you know.”

 _“_ No. Never. Not once.”

They've waited in silence, until the potion was done. Snape watched the clock on the wall. When the ten minutes were up, the potion suddenly changed its color from orange to forest green and the light scent of peppermint filled the air. A satisfied expression settled on Snape's face. He took the ladle and poured the potion into small glass bottles, each different shape, but all roughly the same size. When he finished that he thrust the cauldron onto Harry's lap. The iron was still warm from brewing and Harry looked at Snape puzzled.

 _“_ What?”

 _“_ Clean it,” Snape turned his back on Harry and opened the fridge.

 _“_ I'm not a house-elf,” objected the boy.

Snape turned and glared at him. Harry heart missed a beat.

 _“_ Alright, since you ask so nicely,” he mumbled.

The sink was very small, but since it had a round shape, it fit the cauldron. Harry cleaned it with a few strokes. Thankfully the potion didn't cling to the walls and washed off easily. The scent of peppermint clung to his clothes and hands, making the washing a lovely process. In Hogwarts he cleaned a dozen cauldrons with dried potions stuck to the walls, smelling like rotten eggs and cabbage, with no tap around, with only few coarse brushes. This was easy.

He finished with the cauldron and turned. Snape had cleaned the table from bottles and put a frying pan on the center. It smelled of onion and potatoes and Harry felt a sharp stab of hunger. Snape snatched the cauldron from Harry and put it on top of the fridge.

 _“_ Are you sharing your dinner with me?” smiled Harry. He was practically drooling.

 _“_ Just sit,” sighed Snape.

There were few slices of bread and piece of cheese on the table. Harry dug into the pan eagerly. The potatoes weren't bad, in fact, they tasted pretty great, but maybe that was because Harry was hungry. They weren't fresh from the stove, Snape must have reheated them from lunch, but Harry didn't mind it. He was overcome with sense of nostalgia over them sharing dinner, like they did all summer. Occasionally he would glance in Snape's direction, noticing the man still wasn't eating much. Harry pulled a face.

 _“_ You need to eat more,” he remarked.

 _“_ I'm apologize,” Snape started acidly. “I didn't realize I was serving to Molly Weasley.”

 _“_ Severus.”

Snape rolled his eyes. To Harry's astonishment he took a large potato from the pan and shoved it in his mouth. Harry gaped for a few seconds, while Snape continued to swallow down the food. He stopped after a few bites and tossed the fork away.

 _“_ Are your maternal instincts satisfied, Potter?” the man asked annoyed.

Harry grinned with all his teeth. “For now.” He took a bite of cheese and found it was a little bitter. “I've heard they returned the access to your Gringotts vault.”

 _“_ Yes, they also lifted the tracking charms they've placed on my wand, while I was in custody. I'm a free man, Potter. You needn't concern yourself with my affairs any longer.”

 _“_ Hm. Have you read the Prophet lately? There's a movement that wants to hang the crimes of Carrows onto you, because you were governing the school.”

 _“_ I see. You've decided I am in need of saving once again,” sneered the man. “The great Harry Potter comes to the rescue of the former Death Eater, zealously displaying his Gryffindor nature. What's do you plan on doing next? Perhaps giving an interview to the Prophet will help you reach your goal?”

 _“_ Maybe,” said Harry calmly. “If it helps. And I'm not leaving, until we talk.”

Snape's face went sour. He was clearly disappointed he didn't get a rouse from Harry. He let Harry finish his meal and instructed him to clean the frying pan. Harry rolled his eyes, but washed the dishes. Meanwhile Snape retreated somewhere into the house. Harry found him in the living room, sitting with a book. The man appeared to be reading. Harry examined the man in front of him. Sure, his eyes moved over the paper, but his right hand gripped the armrest tightly and his shoulders were set in tense line.

 _“_ I've missed you,” he said earnestly, decided telling the truth would be a best tactic.

Snape's pursed his lips. “I'm sure you've found plenty of young impressionable fans to occupy your time,” said the man smoothly without lifting his eyes from the book.

 _“_ What? Do you mean like curating a fan club?” asked Harry confused.

Snape threw the book away angrily. The corners of his mouth turned down. “Don't pretend you haven't had students throwing themselves at your feet,” he spat. “Why return to your old useless lover, when you have the attention of many attractive witches and wizards? Why waste your time visiting me while you have more than fair share of romance from every corner of the castle?”

Harry blinked in shock. “Go to hell, Severus! McGonagall forbid me from leaving the castle! I've gotten here when the first opportunity presented itself!”

Snape shook his head disbelievingly, like a child forced to swallow a bitter pill.

 _“_ And there are no fans who stalk me throughout the castle. People treat me the same as before,” Harry continued. “I haven't even thought about meeting someone new. All my thoughts are about you! I think about you the first thing in the morning, I feel you here,” Harry struck himself in the chest. “Every day. I've missed you,” he repeated, hoping Snape would hear him this time.

The man stood up and stalked to the nearest window, his back to Harry. But not before Harry saw how lost his eyes were, “You can't expect me to believe all these month didn't make you reconsider... what we've involved ourselves with,” he said to the window.

 _“_ Have you?” Harry asked sadly.

When no reply came Harry resigned to take things slowly. Snape obviously spent these four month convinced, that Harry decided to abandoned him. How could he change all this time spent wallowing in doubt and misery in one moment? He grabbed his jacket and put it on.

 _“_ I'll be back tomorrow,” he declared at no one in particular. He shuffled miserably to the door and then down the street. The darkness swallowed him up like a giant hungry beast. He doubted somebody would spot him lighting a Lumos, but he still didn't dare to take out his wand. He had an empty ache in his chest and wanted nothing more than go back to the house. He felt tired and jumpy, and he had a distinct feeling he was being watched. He looked around himself, but couldn't make out much. Did he imagine it or someone really shouted his name? He really should apparate from this place before something bad happened.

 _“_ Potter!”

Harry jumped a couple feet into the air releasing an undignified squeak. A shadow floated from the darkness and grabbed him by the elbow. He could make out the outline of a prominent nose and long hair. He released a hysterical giggle.

 _“_ You scared the living daylights out of me!” Harry leaned into the wall of the nearby house, breathing rapidly.

Snape snorted. “Some fearless Gryffindor you are.” Even in the darkness Harry could feel the man smirking. “Here,” Snape put something warm and fluffy into Harry's hand. “You forgot your scarf.”

 _“_ Oh, thanks. I could have gotten it tomorrow.”

Snape made noncommittal noise, but Harry knew immediately what the man was thinking.

 _“_ I am coming back,” he stated confidently.

Harry reached blindly for the man in the darkness and wrapped his hands around him. He discovered Snape ran out of house in his shirt, the man must have been freezing in this weather. Snape's limbs were tense and Harry hugged him tighter. He buried his face in the man’s chest, breathing him in. Warmth was rapidly leaving Snape's body, but he didn't move, didn't try to end their embrace.

 _“_ See that you are,” whispered the man and unwrapped Harry's arms from his torso.

He probably couldn't see Harry nod, or smile, standing in the dark in only his shirt, in the month of December. Harry apparated away a moment later, touched by gesture and already planning the next day. He had a cranky Potion's Master to woo.

The Spinner's End looked even poorer in the daylight, than in twilight. Harry looked around, but didn't find a single soul on the streets. He was carrying two coffees and a fresh meat pie with him, along with some vegetables and frozen chicken, having searched for the coffee shop quite early in the muggle London and having spent his time in grocer's store. He was feeling quite optimistic, so he knocked politely on Snape's door, without trying to break the door.

The door opened after a few minutes, most of which were spent debating whether to try and break in anyway, or to try and wait Snape out. Harry caught Snape's eye and saw how surprised Snape was by his visit. Eventually his gaze landed of coffee mugs and Snape looked at them with something suspiciously like approval, before inviting Harry in the house.

 _“_ Black coffee, no sugar, no milk,” Harry placated, as he moved to close the door.

Snape waved at him impatiently. “Well, which is it?”

 _“_ Here.”

The man didn't even pause, before he grabbed the drink from Harry and stalked towards the kitchen. Amused, Harry followed. There was a familiar cauldron set up on the table along with two smaller ones. A magical fire burned beneath the cauldrons without damaging the wooden surface. There was a faint smell of wormwood mixed in with heavy leathery scent. Harry couldn't decide if he was repulsed by the combination of those or the opposite.

 _“_ Have you had breakfast yet? I've got you a pie.”

 _“_ In half an hour I'll have an open window for fifteen minutes,” Snape knife thudded on the cutting board. “You're free to use the library while you wait.”

Harry considered this. “I'd rather help you brew. What can I do?”

The next half an hour turned into nightmare. Snape told him to chop valerian root, but was immediately critical about Harry's cutting. He insisted on smaller slices, even pieces and minimal damage caused to the root. He didn't even let Harry do third of the job, when he grabbed the roots and started doing the job himself, instructing Harry to crush the sopophorous bean. Harry tried to do the job properly this time, using the pestle with maximum effort. He presented the result to Snape proudly, only infuriating the man further.

 _“_ I said ground, not demolish into dust! Congratulations Potter, you've made a bean flour!” scolded the man.

Harry patience was tested. “What difference does it make! You've said crush it and I did!”

 _“_ The reaction with sopophorous bean should take time and not pass instantaneously, which would undoubtedly happen, when it's grounded into dust!”

 _“_ Whatever!” Harry jumped from the table. “I'm going to find myself something to read!”

Harry strode into the living room and spent the time browsing the books. He did pretty well in Potions with Snape's book. He was sure his technique was sufficient to produce a good potion. If Snape wasn't such perfectionist, they could've brewed the bloody potions together. Instead Harry was stuck browsing his library.

He caught a delicious whiff from the kitchen. Snape was heating the pie without him! He tossed the book he was holding away. Then hesitated and picked it up to return it to its place, lest of all he wanted Snape raging at him for making a mess. He returned to the kitchen a moment later. Snape had been cutting the pie, when he returned.

 _“_ Hey!”

 _“_ I was planning on fetching you for breakfast,” chuckled the man.

 _“_ You're not mad at me for ruining your precious ingredients?”

Snape sighed. The cauldrons took most of the space on already small table. The pie sat at the very corner and the man settled on the stool, trying to be very careful with his elbows. “While I have a certain way of doing things, I'm of the opinion even the hopeless cases like Longbotton can be taught the basics. I'm sure with few instructions you can improve your skills at preparing the ingredients. After all, I will supervise the most important part: the brewing.”

 _“_ I can brew,” said Harry before biting a large piece of the pie. It tasted amazing and he hummed appreciatively. “You're not eating.”

Snape glared at him, but took a small bite. “The fact that you can follow simple instructions doesn't make you Potion's Master.”

 _“_ I can brew,” Harry repeated stubbornly.

Snape glared at him. Harry stuffed himself with a pie. He stood close to the table and close to Snape. Their knees were nearly touching, making Harry's heart flutter. More than once he caught Snape staring at the line of his throat, his face and hands, and there was always something dangerous simmering in the man's black eyes, a promise, perhaps, of wild dark desires. A shy warmth bloomed between Harry's thighs beneath that gaze.

When the fifteen minutes were up Snape returned to the brewing, interrupting the moment. Harry cleaned the table and expressed a desire to help Snape with the brewing. Again. Snape relented. This time, however, Snape gave Harry detailed instructions and along with comprehensive demonstration.

 _“_ How long does it take for it to be ready?”

 _“_ This one will be finished by six o'clock today,” Snape pointed at the largest cauldron. “The other two will be ready by lunch.”

Harry's shoulders were protesting the chopping. He stood up and threw his hands in the air, stretching his libs. He glanced at Snape and saw that the man's eyes were glued to his stomach. He felt a nice jolt of arousal and smiled small pleased smile.

 _“_ You don't brew complicated potions here,” he guessed.

 _“_ No, only those which could be finished in the span of one day. I require a workspace for complex formulas. It's essential the potion would not be disturbed and as I'm in possession of only three cauldrons, it would hinder the pace at which I brew the rest of the potions,” explained Snape in his teacher's voice. “I am fortunate the demand is high for the potions that could be brewed within mere hours.”

 _“_ Oh, do you buy ingredients from the Diagon Alley? How big is your income deducting the expenses?” Harry asked concern etching his voice.

 _“_ Why the sudden interest in my potions?” Snape frowned at him.

 _“_ It's nothing, I am just curious,” Harry said quickly.

 _“_ I buy ingredients from the vendors, preferably the ones who owe me a favor and lower their prices for me. As the summer is gone, so is my opportunity to gather the ingredients myself, without gallivanting around the continent,” Snape looked at Harry closely. He sighed. “I make enough, Potter. You needn't concern yourself.”

Harry felt discouraged. “You're the best Potions Master in all Britain. You deserve to brew in laboratory and have all the equipment for the experiments you told me about. You deserve an Order of Merlin, or at least some compensation for everything you did during a war.”

 _“_ Cease to paint me as a hero,” glowered the man. “Have you forgotten the Mark on my arm?”

 _“_ But...”

 _“_ Not buts, Potter,” Snape interrupted. “Do continue chopping, I'll need that plant in five minutes.”

They continued like that for the morning. Harry excused himself and started to prepare lunch when it was time. Snape put up a fight, insisting it was too cramped in the kitchen and Harry would mess with his potions, but Harry would have none of it. They've finished two potions and Harry cooked chicken with vegetables, the way he'd seen aunt Petunia do it. He found an entire shelf dedicated to spices, but was afraid to use them. Pepper and salt, can't go wrong with that, he decided.

They've eaten and Snape returned to the potion. Bored, Harry wondered into the library. He didn't expect Snape's house to be decorated for the holiday, but was still surprised to see it bare. Not even a small Christmas tree. Grimmauld Place was the same way, but it was an almost abandoned house, while Spinner's End felt lived in and alive, even if cramped and old.

Ron had invited him for Christmas, which was tomorrow Harry knew. He wondered if he should go and leave Snape alone. It didn't seem fair somehow. But he wanted to be there for his friend – it was a first Christmas for him without his brother and Harry was sure the entire Burrow would be keenly aware of Fred's absence. He wondered back into the kitchen.

 _“_ I have to be at the Burrow tomorrow, but I'll return the next day.”

 _“_ I see.”

 _“_ Are you awfully mad at me?” Harry hesitated. “I can stay here. I _want_ to stay here. But it's first Christmas without Fred and...”

 _“_ Potter,” barked the man. “I do not care where you choose to spend your holidays.”

Harry bristled. “Well, I care how you spend yours! You shouldn't be alone; it's a holiday you're meant to spend with your family, with your friends. Don't you have them?”

 _“_ My parents are dead, Potter,” said Snape casually, like he was talking about the weather.

 _“_ Oh, I'm sorry.”

The Potions Master stopped stirring the cauldron and poured himself a glass of water. But Harry wasn't ready to give up. “Friends then,” he insisted. “Malfoys are your friends.”

Snape made a humming noise at the back of his throat. His Adam's apple worked as he drank. Harry felt a stirring in his groin. He pushed the sensation away, trying to discern Severus's reaction.

 _“_ What?”

 _“_ I may have gotten... an invitation,” winced the man.

 _“_ Really! But that's great!” Harry grabbed himself some water too. He was thirsty suddenly. But maybe not for water. “I can already imagine Christmas at the Malfoys. Everybody dressed in their dress robes and behaving like they have a stick up their ass.”

Snape eyebrows rose, but his eyes were laughing.

 _“_ I haven't accepted.”

It was not like Harry was against Snape's frienship with Malfoys, but he still felt like he was releasing a child to play into a den of snakes. The child might be six feet tall and have a rather prominent nose, but Harry still felt rather protective of Severus. This is why the next words cost him something dear.

 

 _“_ You should. I mean, I saw you and Narcissa speaking at the first hearing. She was really glad to see you – I could tell.”

Snape made a noncommittal noise and Harry dropped the subject. At the end of the day Harry tried to sneak a goodbye kiss, but was promptly stopped by a deathly glare. They've had dinner and Harry had already cleaned the cauldrons and the dishes. Ignoring the forbidding frown Harry tried again. He trapped Severus in corner of the kitchen and leaned in for a kiss. He took the beloved face in his hands and placed a careful kiss on Snape's lips, trying to avoid the big nose.

Snape stood like a frozen statue and Harry lingered, placing small delightful kissed in the corner of the man's lips, his chin, biting his lower lip lightly. Each kiss counted for the days he spent missing the man, his eyes, his scent. Harry blinked and suddenly found himself in other corner of the room. _Oh_. Snape had pushed him away. The man himself stood in front of Harry breathing heavily. His eyes had a dangerous gleam in them. Harry own heart hurt, he'd felt as if he was connected to Snape by the heavy iron chains, that kept wrapping around his chest the further they were apart and that could only stop weighting him down, when he was touching the man.

Snape stared at him for a beat, then hounded on Harry all of a sudden, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat. The man pushed Harry on the counter, his mouth finding Harry's lips. It was a hungry desperate kiss, plunging Harry deep into abyss where nothing but the man in front of him mattered. Snape hands palmed his knees, then his calves, then ankles. He pushed Harry's jeans away, insinuating his hands beneath the fabric, touching Harry's skin. Harry's knees closed around Snape's waist, trapping him between his thighs. Harry moaned and clung to the man possessively.

There was nothing Harry wanted more than to catch Snape as wild woodland animal, for the thrill of touching something that was made for living outside of human grasp, to be admired afar and never given a gentle caress, thoughtful care or simple affection. The problem was he _loved_ Snape enough to desire to almost, almost trap him.

Snape wrenched himself from the kiss.

 _“_ We can't... You'll leave and I won't... _I can't._ ”

 _“_ I'm here now,” Harry cried, trying to kiss Snape again.

But the man wouldn't let him. He put an arms distance between their bodies, panting and shaking his head. Harry felt devastated. He knew, or thought he knew, that the man loved him. He was also beginning to sense Snape was convinced Harry would leave him. It was against all reason. Harry wasn't fickle or prone to breaking hearts. He just wasn't the sort to stray.

 _“_ Alright. I'll leave now, but I'm coming back.”

Snape still held him by the ankles. Reluctantly he let go of Harry and gave him space to recover. Harry jumped from the counter, straightened his glasses and tried to tidy his hair. He had two weeks to convince Snape he was going to return to him when his classes were over.

That he was going to keep returning after. No matter what.

 

***

 

The Christmas at the Burrow went as was expected. All the Weasleys had gathered and Molly cooked a great feast. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in the corner, talking quietly among themselves. When the time came Arthur made a speech and it brought tears to Molly's eyes. Harry saw Fleur wiping her eyes discreetly with a napkin. They were all missing their brother and Harry had hoped his and Hermione's presence would help Ron to cope with a loss. He honestly tried to put Snape out of his thoughts, but he kept drifting to Malfoy Manor and what went on behind its walls. He didn't know if Snape had gone, but he didn't want to think the man was spending his Christmas alone. He spent the night at the Burrow and apparated to Spinner's End the next morning.

He brought no coffee, but only the leftovers from the Christmas dinner, that Mr. Weasley lovingly packed him to go. He hoped it would be enough, he didn’t spend his Christmas with Severus. He was going to be there on the Boxing Day however. He knocked and waited patiently for an answer. None came. He knocked again, louder this time, but there was no response.

You have got to be kidding me, thought Harry. Did the kiss they shared scared Snape into hiding again? It was unbelievable. He charmed the rocks to pound on the door once again. He watched the pebbles stab the door viciously and had felt a faint satisfaction from the violence of it. Let Snape know he wasn't about to give up, that he couldn't be scared away so easily.

Something in the house shattered with a loud bang. Snape's voice sounded somewhere behind the door. Harry dropped the rocks – a good thing too, since the door opened the next moment revealing Snape in his nightshirt. Wait, Snape was still asleep? Snape was pale, his hair was a mess and his eyes appeared to be swollen.

 _“Must you_ always be this loud?!” bellowed the man.

 _“_ I thought you were ignoring me again!” justified the boy.

Snape turned and went into the house, leaving the door open. He was clutching his head, trying to step carefully. Gingerly Harry followed. The secret door in the living room was open and Snape went upstairs. His curiosity getting better of him, Harry went after the man. He conquered the stairwell by jumping through two steps at a time and was greeted to sight of narrow corridor. He had never been in this part of the house.

The corridor led him to a small bedroom and a room that was repurposed as a bathroom. Snape was in the bathroom digging through a cupboard. He covered his eyes, trying to escape a bright light, which probably made his search twice as difficult. Harry recognized Snape behavior for what it was. Stunned, he cried:

 _“_ You've been drinking!”

Snape clutched his head and moaned. He swore under his breath. “Be quiet you noisy menace,” he spit.

 _“_ Sorry, but you're hungover!” whispered Harry furiously.

 _“_ Oh, my mistake. I could have undoubtedly attributed this head-splitting headache to something else,” snarked the man.

 _“_ Don't tell me you've been drinking alone,” Harry worried his bottom lip.

Snape exclaimed triumphantly and brought a thin bottle to his lips. He drank it in one go and his entire frame went slack. He leaned into the wall, eyes closed, looking impossibly enticing for a man who's been hungover and was wearing only a nightshirt. Harry eyes drank the line of his shoulders, the wings of his exposed collar bones, the sharp line of his chin. He reached and took the material of the nightshirt between his fingers. It was a plain cotton, worn, but very soft.

 _“_ What are you doing?”

Harry immediately pulled his hand away. “Nothing.”

Snape stared at him suspiciously. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't look so pale anymore.

 _“_ Lucius and I got carried away last night,” said Snape looking at Harry from beneath his lashes.

 _“_ Oh, I guess he'd not really happy about losing the war,” Harry sighed distractedly, trying to figure out if he really saw an outline of Snape's nipples through his nightie.

 _“_ He should be grateful. But Malfoys come from a long line that prides itself in the purity of their blood. It is not easy for him to see muggle-borns rise in numbers and their position in the Ministry. He's a fool who's still clinging to the past.”

Harry watched as Snape performed his morning ritual in the bathroom. He was reminded of the time when he spied on the man, hidden by the shower curtain. He looked as Snape lathered his jaw and started shaving. Harry was entranced. A couple of times Harry saw Snape's eyes flicker to his reflection in the mirror. Harry tried his hardest not to blush.

When Snape was finished he went past Harry, into the bedroom. Harry stood in the doorway of the room, while Snape changed his clothes. Harry still held the packet given to him by Mrs. Weasley. He wasn't trying to ogle Snape, but he saw enough skin to feel twitching in the nether regions. He wanted the man. Desired him even.

Harry sighed, burying his longing and his dirty little fantasies.

 _“_ What are you sighing about, Potter?”

 _“_ You can call me Harry you know,” teased the boy. “But 'love', 'honey' and 'dear' could work too.”

Snape emerged from the closet, dressed in plain white shirt and black trousers.

 _“_ Not 'The Golden Boy', 'Your Highness' or 'My Saviour'?”

 _“_ Only on weekends when you feel particularly charitable.”

 _“_ Then never,” cut Snape flatly.

Harry smiled good-naturedly. “I guess Potter is fine, if you don't recall my father every time you use it.”

Together they've come downstairs into the kitchen and had breakfast. The day was spent brewing again. Harry talked, while preparing the ingredients and Snape listened. He would speak occasionally about the magical reactions of the potions they were preparing. Harry wanted to know more details about Snape's life, but the man only shared meager pieces. They couldn't satisfy Harry's interest. Snape appeared to be in the strangest mood, his face betraying more emotion than usual, his eyes often fixed on Harry, instead of the potion. In one of these moments he'd cut himself, chopping the mint. Harry was beside him immediately, his hands carefully unwrapping Snape's fist. Snape's blood gotten into his hands and Harry inspected the cut closely.

 _“_ It's quite a wound. I think this might need stitches,” he said worried.

He'd walked the man to the sink and rinsed the bleeding hand under the tap, touching the man carefully. They were standing very close to each other and Snape made no attempt at resisting Harry's care. Harry took a towel and carefully dried Snape's wounded hand. The man stood there, passively, his eyes watching Harry's face, his mouth soft.

 _“_ Do you have any bandages?” Harry asked still holding the man by his hand.

Snape looked at him strangely, almost fondly. He pulled out his wand and healed the gash with few words. Harry flushed with embarrassment.

 _“_ Right, I'm an idiot,” Harry laughed, red to the roots of his hair.

He still checked Snape hand, tracing the line where the wound was with his fingertips. Snape allowed this caress and when Harry finally let go of his hand, he returned to his task wordlessly. Harry had returned to asking him questions. Snape still stared at him, making Harry's heart beat faster.

 _“_ Have you ever thought about moving?” inquired Harry washing the rice for dinner.

 _“_ Yes and no.”

 _“_ How so?”

 _“_ I've... never planned to survive the war. It would be waste of effort and money to move somewhere else when I was spending nine months out of year in Hogwarts. That said... I've saved money, for emergencies and unforeseen circumstances.”

Harry was happy Snape was sharing something with him. He poured the rice into the steaming pot.

 _“_ My mother used to fry the rice, before she boiled it,” Snape said suddenly. “I've discovered early on it was not what cookbooks recommended.”

The steam from the pot fogged up his glasses. Harry cleaned them with the hem of his shirt.

 _“_ I wish I could've have gotten know her,” he said wistfully. “Your mom, I mean.”

Snape said nothing, but he looked thankful Harry didn't comment anything rude.

 _“_ When they've appointed me as your guardian,” Harry started, unsure. “There was a report from Gringotts from your vault. It was nearly empty.”

 _“_ Ah, naturally. I've never tried to save the money through Gringotts. In times of war both sides had an interest in seizing the savings. The money that I've accumulated are held in a muggle bank. It's not much, but it could potentially buy a house.”

 _“_ But that's brilliant!” Harry cried. “Wait, there must be a reason why you haven't used them yet?”

Snape answered him with mysterious silence. He finished the potions earlier than usual and retreated into the library, while Harry cooked dinner. When the dinner was ready, Harry searched for the plates in the kitchen cabinets. He didn't want to eat from the pan again. He found the plates in the bottom drawer, they've were adorned with faded pink flowers.

 _“_ Who could have known I would be served dinner by National Hero and The Owner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile,” Snape's voice sounded from the doorway.

 _“_ Lockhart would be proud,” Harry posed with a smile on his face.

Snape sat and placed a bottle of whiskey on the table. He stared at the plates. He didn't comment anything, taking a bite of Harry's rice and fried meat.

 _“_ Passable,” he said neutrally.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Haven't you had enough?” he asked, nodding at the bottle.

Snape poured himself a glass, ignoring Harry's comment. Fine, decided Harry. Two people could play this game. He poured himself a generous glass as well. Snape looked annoyed.

 _“_ I don't need you drunk,” he sneered.

 _“_ Why? We've finished with the work for today, aren't we?” the boy drank from his glass.

The alcohol burned his throat and mouth, warming him from the inside. He was pleasantly buzzed by the time they've finished dinner. Snape volunteered to wash the dishes and Harry busied himself with a muggle detective novel. Snape entered the room after few minutes and settled with a book. After five minutes of reading Harry felt it. The stare. He ignored it in favor of finding out what milkman in the novel could testify about the recent string of murders.

Snape tossed the book he was holding and Harry could practically hear him sneering again. He glanced at the man and indeed found him glaring at him. Harry returned to the novel. Snape stood up and started pacing the room. Reading while a little tipsy was quite pleasant Harry discovered. He felt relaxed and calm, the plot of the novel got even more tricky and complex.

Snape stopped beside his chair. He stood there motionless and Harry, loose from the whiskey, grabbed him by hand and leaned onto the man's hip. Snape's other hand started going through his hair. Harry practically purred from pleasure. The man was massaging his scalp and Harry found it harder and harder to concentrate on the story. He kissed the man's hand gratefully.

Snape tugged at his hair, until his face was facing up, distracting him from the reading. Harry stared at Snape and the man watched him back. Harry felt tenderness overflow in his heart. He loved when Snape touched him. Instead of releasing his grip on Harry, the man bent and kissed him. Harry gave a surprised noise, drowned between Snape's lips. The man tasted like whiskey and Harry let him lick into his mouth.

The kiss grew from lazy to heated and Snape kissed traveled along his jawline. The man pulled Harry's hair.

 _“_ Up.”

Harry stood from the chair. Snape took him by the hand and led him thought the secret door, upstairs, into the bedroom. He lighted two candles, on both sides of the bed. Harry reached to kiss the man again and was rewarded by deep toe curling kiss.

Harry stopped to take a breath. “Are you sure?”

 _“_ I'm not a virginal maiden,” huffed the man. “Come here.”

Snape stripped him of his clothes. He took care with each item, never rushing, pausing to leave searing patches on Harry's skin, wherever he touched him. Snape, Harry was discovering, enjoyed unwrapping him, like a present. It was alright, as far as Harry was concerned. Whatever the man wanted, really. His glasses once more were removed to the bedside table. The room was immediately blurry, but Harry didn’t feel like worrying about it.

Snape hands traced the line of his underwear and he tugged the boxers off. Harry tried to fight the desire to cover himself. He stepped from his undies and they flew away, like the rest of his clothes did, landing on the back of the chair. To Harry's surprise, Snape kneeled in front of him, making Harry's heart beat pick up.

Snape touched him between his thighs, gently rolling Harry sac in his palm. His face ended up close to Harry's crotch. His breath ghosted Harry's cock. Harry knew then what the man wanted to do. Still, small surprised sigh escaped him when the man took him in his mouth. Harry found himself getting hard, as Snape worked on his cock.

Of course, Snape was better at giving blow jobs than Harry was. He must have had a lot of practice, more than Harry, that's for sure. He bobbed his head, taking Harry deep into his throat, holding Harry's hips to keep him from bucking. Harry's hands formed fists; he wouldn't dare to touch the man's hair, not yet anyway. Control yourself, Harry told himself. But it was so impossibly hot, _wet_ and so bloody _smooth_ , inside Snape's mouth. Harry trembled from pleasure, his knees shaking. He was making small keening noise at the back of his throat.

He didn't last two minutes, coming right in Snape's mouth, without a warning, having forgotten everything short of Snape's name.

 _“_ Severus!” he gasped, coming in hot thick sprouts, as dripped down his lover's chin. “Severus!”

His knees gave out, but Snape caught him. He led him to the bed, still fully clothed and proper. He wiped his mouth with his hand and pecked Harry on his knee. Harry lay there, panting heavily and trying to gather his wits.

 _“_ You've planned this,” he heaved. “This is the reason you wouldn't let me drink.”

Snape looked guilty, but Harry laughed, happy. “Best idea ever.”

Harry watched as Snape stripped and slipped under the blanket. Harry immediately wrapped himself around the man. His chest felt lighter, than it had been in months. He spotted a nipple and used his tongue to circle around the bud. Snape tugged at his hair.

 _“_ Nothing more needs to happen tonight.”

 _“_ But... Don't you want to?” Harry asked, giving another twirl around Snape's nipple. “I've missed you.”

 _“_ You've already had your fill,” cut him the man.

 _“_ Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be ready for a second round,” purred Harry. His hand traveled down Snape's stomach. “Oh, look here,” Harry cooed, tracing Snape's half-hard cock. “Someone is interested.”

 _“_ If this is supposed to seduce me, you're doing a terrible job out of it, Potter,” Snape deadpanned.

Harry eyes grew shrewd. “What if I promise eternal loyalty to you? Heart, body and soul?”

Snape's eyebrow arched. “You're too young to stick to such promises.”

Harry pouted. Snape's gaze softened. “But don't think it doesn't help with this,” Snape thrust his hips into Harry's hand and bent to kiss him. Harry climbed on top of the man, kissing him fervently. Snape's hands traveled down the length of Harry's back, then traced his limbs and squeezed his arse.

Harry wanted to explore his lover's body, so he let his kisses travel down Snape's neck. Long and thin, with ugly scars. He paid attention to each scar, kissing all of them slowly. He mapped his lover's body with his touch: Snape's wide bony shoulders, his chest, his small brown nipples. He wanted to hear Snape enjoying himself and he got his wish. Quiet groans had escaped the man's lips, whenever he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

Harry's erection had begun growing and he'd ground his hips into Snape's crotch.

 _“_ What do you like the most about me?” Harry asked, full of erotic curiosity.

 _“_ Your... your eyes,” Snape gasped. Harry was tracing lines on Snape's stomach with his tongue.

 _“_ Oh,” Harry sighed, a little down. “Because they remind you of my mom.”

Snape raised his torso, supporting himself by the elbows. He glared down his big nose at Harry.

 _“_ No,” he rebuked. “Because they are of a lovely shape and charming shade of green,” the man said forcefully. “Never bring up yours or mine parents in bed, it rather kills the mood. Now quit fishing for complements.”

Harry felt himself light up, his disappointment gone. Snape liked his eyes!

 _“_ I like your eyes too.” Harry paused unsure. “And... and your nose.”

 _“_ Really,” Snape said flatly.

 _“_ Yes,” Harry said, sucking in Snape's hipbones in his mouth. “Even if it gets in the way of us kissing.”

 _“_ Same could be said about your height,” shot back the man, although his voice sounded a little breathy.

Harry laughed, burying his face in Snape groin. He could feel the Potions Master staring at him in puzzlement. But Harry knew he was short. He didn't let it trouble him. He kissed Snape's cock through his underwear. A hand landed in his shoulder and tugged him up. But Snape only pecked him on the side of his jaw, turning them so that Harry was lying beneath him.

Snape prepared him thoroughly, until Harry was impatient for something more. He turned on his stomach, standing on all fours, while Snape entered the tight ring of muscles. Snape's hands traveled along his body and Harry breathed through the painful intrusion. It was better this time, because he knew what to expect. They've started rocking together and Harry moaned into the pillow. The older man thrust deeply in him, pushing Harry against the headboard.

Harry was first to reach climax. He collapsed on the sheets, sweaty and sated, and a little sticky. Snape slipped from his channel and lay next to him. Puzzled, Harry turned to his lover.

 _“_ Aren't you going to finish?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

 _“_ It will be unpleasant to you.” And indeed Harry was too sensitive right now.

Snape kissed Harry on the mouth and worked his hand on his cock. He came quietly, laying kisses all over Harry's face, neck, and shoulders. Harry was too spent for a shower. He managed a quick cleaning spell, then rolled into the blankets, spooning Snape from behind.

He lay there, happy and content, thinking that he didn't mind to spend every evening like this. Lying next to the man who made him feel, at times, heavy as a stone and at times, lighter than the air. He closed his eyes and dreamed of pleasant things, a road in the sky, amidst the clouds, large colorful birds and snitches flying lazily, not minding being caught.

He woke up alone. The sun was already shining though the small dusty window in the bedroom. He stretched and turned, seeking his lover. He drifted in and out of sleep for an hour, until he was fully awake. He called his lover. No one answered. He put on his boxers and went down the corridor to take a shower.

He quickly discovered that it was better to keep the water running lukewarm, or it would turn scalding hot, with no in-between. The bath was small and the shower curtain would cling to his skin, while he washed away the evidence of their nightly activities.

He heard a door bang shut on the first floor and felt a relief wash over him. He didn't know what to make of Snape's absence this morning. He used the hand towel to dry himself, and quickly threw his clothes on, running downstairs. He was certain he heard the man speaking to someone, did they have a guest?

Hoping it wasn't Hermione or Ron coming to check up on him, he walked towards the kitchen. He caught a faint shrieking as he entered the room.

 _“_ Do be quiet will you,” said Severus annoyed. He was standing in the middle of the room with a large owl cage. He saw Harry and his shoulders relaxed. He thrust the cage into Harry's hands unceremoniously. “Here, now you have your owner to take care of you.”

 _“_ What is this?” Harry asked, puzzled.

Snape glared daggers at him. “It's an owl, Potter, as you can really see. It's young, but it should have no trouble to deliver small letters.”

Harry looked at an owl. It was small, but really fluffy, with rich orange feathers and tiny black spots on them. It looked at him trustingly and hooted.

 _“_ You bought me an owl,” Harry whispered incredulously. He stared at the little owl and it stared right back at him. It was so small, so unlike his Hedwig. Red instead of white, with nearly black eyes. He felt a pang in his chest; it felt blasphemous to replace Hedwig.

 _“_ An owlet and it's a he. I thought the age of an owl might help you bond with it easier,” Snape said, counting money on the table.

 _“_ It's... cute?” said Harry unsure.

 _“_ I don't expect you to adore it right away. I know there was a bond between you and your last familiar.”

 _“_ I've never told you about Hedwig,” Harry murmured suspiciously.

 _“_ You did not have to voice it, Potter. Your reluctance to get a new owl, even when your correspondence suffered, is a statement enough,” Snape scooped the money in a tin box and put it on the shelf. “You have to name it, naturally.”

 _“_ I...” Harry swallowed. “I will. Thank you.”

 _“_ You can put the cage upstairs.”

Harry did. When he was coming down, there was a delicious smell of fried eggs coming from the kitchen. Harry stomach rumbled.

 _“_ Did you go out to buy me an owl?”

 _“_ No. I've had other business in Diagon Alley.”

Harry sat at the table. Snape probably had to sell the potions they've made.

 _“_ Now that you've got a new owl, you've lost the excuse not to maintain communication, you realize,” Snape put a pan on the table and Harry dug into it immediately. He processed what Snape said to him and stared at the man in shock.

 _“_ You want me to write to you,” Harry said dumbly. Not only that, but Snape bought an owl to 'maintain communication'. Bloody hell.

 _“_ I require no such thing,” lied the man smoothly. “Having an owl is essential feature of being a Wizard. You can't burrow your friend’s owl every time you need to send a letter.”

Harry made an effort not to laugh. He was touched by the gesture. So much so, that he felt a rush of affection towards his new owlet. It was a first thing Snape gifted to him, he realized.

 _“_ Will you write me back?”

Now that made the man uncomfortable. “I make no such promises,” Snape said hesitantly. “I'm a man of few words,” the man stressed. “And I find no pleasure in recounting my daily business to somebody else.”

Harry understood the man perfectly. Snape wanted Harry to write to him, but probably wouldn't answer to his letters. Harry smiled.

 _“_ Alright,” he watched as the man took a small bite from his eggs. “Have I told you the Masons were adopted?”

 

***

 

He stood on the platform in the way of icy wind. The sun was hidden behind the clouds and the temperature was below zero. Harry pushed the trolley forward, looking for his friends. He spent two weeks practically living in Snape's house. Two weeks of repetitive potions work, friendly banter and sex. Two weeks of being close to the man, sharing stories with him and touching him whenever he pleased. But the closer the date of Harry's departure loomed, the more withdrawn Snape became. Harry couldn't do anything about that, unfortunately.

 _“_ Harry!”

Harry turned and saw Ron and Hermione pushing their trolleys. He waved at them and waited until they reached him.

 _“_ Mate, you've bought an owl!” immediately noticed Ron.

 _“_ Not exactly, it was a gift,” Harry looked affectionately at the bird.

 _“_ From who?”

The boy braced himself, before answering truthfully. “From Snape.”

 _“_ Really Harry?” exclaimed Hermione. “How very thoughtful!”

 _“_ Yes, it was,” the boy confirmed.

 _“_ You're still keeping in touch with Snape?” Ron asked surprised.

Harry nodded. He'd have a lot of time to prepare his friend for the truth.

 

***

 

Harry wrote to Snape every week. He wasn't really good at writing long letters himself, but he managed to fill his parchment with descriptions of his life and the lives of his friends. To Harry's surprise, Snape actually wrote back. About every two weeks Harry would get short letters from the man. Pretty straightforward and concise, they contained no declarations of love or devotion. Every other letter had hinted vaguely to keep vigil if their correspondence is intercepted. Harry treated them philosophically, making equally vague statements about his feeling toward certain someone growing only stronger, to appease Snape's paranoia.

His studies went well. Even his marks in Potions have improved, although he wasn't the star of his class any longer. Slughorn never brought up the sudden change. His Slug Club has begun to have meetings again. Now, that it had pretty much all of Harry's friends invited to it, Harry had no other option but to join in on the parties Horace hosted. Harry asked if Snape had ever been a member and discovered, to his surprise, that Snape's talent in Potions have been overlooked by the man and Severus was never a part of Slug Club.

That really made Harry wonder about Snape's school years. He knew the man was an outcast, a loner, but he wanted to know the details. All the people who've mistreated him, who made him feel worthless, so he wouldn't believe Harry would stay with him. He couldn't do a damn thing about it now, of course. He still loved his father, or at least, the memory of him, but he knew the man wasn't perfect. He was the one who bullied Snape, along with Sirius. He could never side with them in this past conflict.

He missed Snape since the moment he'd arrived in the castle. His limbs grew heavier and his heart kept reaching for something, grasping only emptiness of Hogwarts's long corridors. He wanted to hear the man's voice; he would often read Daily Prophet and entertain himself by imagining what Snape would say to a particularly boring interview. His body wanted to be held and soothed by his lover's hands. He picked up a habit of flying aimlessly along the school grounds, his mind replaying the memories of this summer and Christmas break. There was this place in his chest, it would stab him with pain each time he got a new letter. Even knowing it held nothing remarkable his heart rate would pick up, his lungs freeze, his body tremble.

April brought another surprise. The new letter Snape had sent him contained a set of fifteen pictures. They were all of the same house located, if the letter was to be believed, in West Country, near the Wimbourne. Severus wanted his opinion on the house. Harry was delighted to find out the man was finally moving on from Spinner's End. He looked at each picture imagining Snape moving through the house, brewing, reading, and shaving in the bathroom. He supposed the house was alright, he wasn't an expert on property after all. He scribbled a few lines about the building and promptly forgot about it.

The next letter came a few days later, containing a new set of pictures with another house and a very cross letter from Snape, where man implied Harry had all of the taste of Longbottom's toad. Snape, it seemed, wanted Harry to be more engaged with his house hunting. Harry was fuming. He'd said his opinion, what did Snape care what he thought about his new house anyway?

So annoyed was he, that he dropped the stack of pictures on Hermione's lap.

 _“_ Oh, Harry,” cried his friend. “You're looking for a house!”

Harry cringed. They were sitting in the Common Room, nearly empty at this late hour. “Well, not really. It's Severus actually. He wants my opinion, although I don't know why.”

Hermione looked though the pictures. “This basement is tad small for a real laboratory, don't you think?” she asked. “And look here, how little land comes with the house! Hardly useful for flying.”

 _“_ Hermione,” Harry said slowly. “Snape is not particularly keen on flying.”

She blinked, surprised, at him. “But he's asking for your opinion. You do know he probably wants a place for you both, don't you?”

Harry gaped. “What? I... But he didn't tell me anything!” As soon as Harry said it he knew how foolish he sounded. Snape was asking for his _opinion_. For a man who couldn't care less about what anybody thought, that was a bold declaration of intentions. Harry couldn't believe he missed it. He looked at the pictures in completely new light. The house looked too posh. The ceilings were too high and there was no need for four (!) guest bedrooms. There was a large walk in closet in the master bedroom and Harry knew neither Snape nor he would ever use it. The garden was too small for Harry's taste and there really was not enough land to fly. Everything was in shades of blue and yellow, with delicate ornate furniture and white couch. Who would want a white couch? This house was so not _Harry_.

 _“_ Wow. You've completely changed my perspective,” said Harry awed.

Hermione gave him a push. “What would you tell him?”

Harry smiled. “Keep looking.”

The perfect house came at the beginning of May. It had been furnished, with an outbuilding in the garden. It had two bedrooms and large fireplace in the living room, a standard for the cottages Harry saw. But what charmed Harry the most were large windows and heavy wooden furniture. The kind he was used to seeing around Hogwarts. The kitchen wasn't too big, which suited Harry just fine, but the basement! The basement was half the size of Gryffindor common room. It was perfect for brewing. The house was located near a pond and a small forest, giving Harry plenty of room to fly. He had no idea how much the property like that could cost. Did Snape really have enough galleons, or rather – pounds, to buy it? He stared at the large forest green sofa in the living room, with milky ornate carpet on the floor. If Snape wouldn't buy the house, he would!

He wrote Snape the same day with his new owl. He named it Spair – meaning hope. The owl had already grown pretty impressively and her fluffiness became a beautiful sleek plumage. He treated it with affection, but still couldn't bring himself to get attached to it fully. Perhaps these things took time.

Snape wrote him back only a week later, noting that he will take Harry's feedback into consideration. The letter did not contain new pictures, however. But Harry's head was full of N.E.W.T.'s level exams. He still had to manage to achieve Exceeds Expectations on his Potions and Transfiguration N.E.W.T.s. Ron told him not to worry, as the Professors would surely give him high grades for defeating Voldemort, but Harry had a hard time imagining all of the other examinators giving him preferential treatment.

He studied. Hard. And Harry and Ron had no help from Hermione, who was busy with her own N.E.W.T.s. The struggle took his mind off of matter of missing certain someone. He had no time to mop. He was practicing charms and cramming potions recipes into his brain all day long. His letters to Severus suffered. Harry had nothing notable to write, other than that he was studying and studying hard.

When it was all over, Harry finally took deep breath and said goodbye to the only real home he'd known.

 

***

 

It was a sunny beautiful day outside the train car. Harry had been stuffing himself on sweets along with Ron, with Hermione looking at them disapprovingly. Harry had been nervous about going back to London. Snape hadn't mentioned if he'd moved already and Harry had no idea where the man might be. He was probably going to go to Spinner's end first thing after his arrival. He was convinced, Snape would make him wait before he gave the location of his new home away. That was Harry's most optimistic estimation. In truth, he wasn't sure Snape wouldn't just hide away in his new cottage from the world and Harry, brewing his experimental potions and shunning all human contact. But. Harry was bracing himself for the worst outcome. There was still so much he could do to find the man. Find out what shops bought Snape's potions, for example, and organize a stake out, if necessary. He could do it. He defeated Voldermort, didn't he?

 _“_ Still can't believe I passed my N.E.W.T.s,” sighed Ron.

 _“_ You did really well,” smiled Hermione. “You too Harry.”

 _“_ What?” Harry said distracted. “Oh, right. Thanks, Hermione.”

Ron squinted at him suspiciously. “Are going to go to Grimmauld Place?”

Harry considered if saying the truth was worth it. “Only to leave my things. I was planning on visiting Severus.”

 _“_ I'm still surprised you've been corresponding with him as much as you have,” Ron said calmly. He took a bite of Chocolate Frog. “Does he really allow you to call him by his name?”

 _“_ Yes,” confirmed Harry, relieved. “We've grown close.”

 _“_ Bloody weird, if you ask me,” frowned Ron. “But I guess it makes sense.”

Hermione stopped reading a book on her lap and was listening to their conversation. She bit her lip, worried. She knew how close Harry and Snape were, but never revealed her knowledge to Ron.

 _“_ It... does?” she asked carefully.

 _“_ Yeah, I mean remember how Harry was about the Half-Blood Prince. Slept with the Potions text under his pillow, brought it everywhere. He would've made out with that book, if he could.”

Harry's Bertie Bott Bean had stuck in his throat. He coughed frantically, while Hermione was trying to hide a smile. Trying to take control of his breathing, Harry cried:

 _“_ I thought it was my father's book!”

 _“_ Did you really?” asked Ron skeptically. “I bet Snape is really like the Prince when you get to know him,” said his friend insightfully. “Witty, sarcastic, dry humor and all. And he saved your life, Harry. I get why you're friendly with him.”

 _“_ You do?”

Hermione snapped her book shut with a thud. “You're full of surprises, Ron Weasley,” she said jovially. “Look, we're slowing down.”

There was the usual commotion in the corridor as Harry and his friends dragged their luggage, bumping with other passengers. Harry stepped on the platform, assaulted immediately by the warm air. His jumper was clearly too hot for the weather. There were parents all over the platform, but Harry didn't feel familiar pang, when he looked at them. His friends followed him closely behind as he stepped through the magical barrier into the muggle part of town.

He noticed the tall figure standing near the plaform 9¾ right away. Something stirred deep in his memory, a familiarity, a tender sort of longing. Harry shook his head. No, it couldn't be. Could it?

 _“_ You guys go. I've got something, that I need to do,” he said to his friends.

 _“_ Goodbye, Harry,” waved Ron. “Keep in touch, mate.”

 _“_ Let us know when the Auror program accepts you,” reminded him Hermione.

Harry's eyes followed his friends into the crowd of people. He pushed his trolley in front of him leading it in the direction of the mysterious stranger. The length of black hair was longer, than he remembered. The jacket was unfamiliar also. But the figure was unmistakably Snape. The man turned his head just so and Harry's heart leapt to his throat. He would recognize that profile anywhere.

Harry left his trolley and slammed Snape with his body, his arms going around the man.

 _“_ People are looking,” warned in the man.

 _“_ Don't care,” mumbled Harry in the scratchy fabric of Snape jacket. “Ron and Hermione already left.”

Snape relaxed fractionally in his arms. He hugged Harry back tentatively, his right hand going through Harry's hair. Harry breathed in the man slowly. He felt so relieved. He felt like he'd dropped two stones.

 _“_ You're sweating,” commented Snape, his lips touching Harry's temple briefly.

 _“_ Um... It's rather hot in here,” said Harry apologetically.

 _“_ Cooling charms, Potter,” sighed the man. “You still think like a muggle.”

Out of corner of his eye Harry noticed an old granny in a frilly flowery dress staring at them. She caught his eye and winked at him. Embarrassed Harry released his hold on the older man. Snape looked good. His hair still lay flat, but it didn't look too greasy. His face had appeared to have fewer lines on it and his eyes had an alert gleam in them.

 _“_ I could have missed you in the crowd,” reproached Harry.

 _“_ Mass attention to my persona would be undesirable,” Snape looked him over with a hungry expression. His gaze lingered on Harry's face. “You've lost weight.”

 _“_ Yeah, the N.E.W.T.s were really tough on me,” joked Harry. “I thought...” Harry worried his lip. “I'm surprised to see you here.”

 _“_ If you rather I did not show, I have no problem leaving,” growled the man, his expression stormy. He moved to leave.

 _“_ No!” Harry jerked to stop the man, seizing him by the hand. Trust Snape to jump to the worst conclusion. “Wait,” Harry brushed his fingers on Snape's hand. He thrilled at the contact. “I just thought you would make me chase you again.”

Snape hesitated. “I do not wish to play games.”

 _“_ No,” Harry swallowed. “Me neither.”

Both of them stood for a moment, simply staring at each other.

 _“_ I've missed you,” Harry said softly. His gaze fell on his trolley. A little boy was standing next to it, his fingers on the cage bars. “Spair!”

He ran to his trolley and moved it away from the boy. Severus jerked his towards the exit from station and Harry followed the man. They moved from the entrance to the back of the building, seeking privacy.

Snape charmed Harry's luggage to fit in the palm of his hand. Harry was holding the cage with an owl, when Snape pulled out a long white feather from his jacket.

 _“_ This is a portkey for the location of my new house. It will activate in the next twenty minutes. If you wish to go with me, you'll need to hold tight to your owl and touch the feather.”

 _“_ Um... but I've got my things with me,” said Harry, unsure. “I wanted to leave them at Grimmauld Place first. It would be really inconvenient for me to apparate with all my luggage from your house.”

Snape looked at him mysteriously. “This is everything you own, correct?”

 _“_ Yeah. You know I don't have much.”

 _“_ Then I don't see a problem,” said Snape forcefully.

Harry laughed. “It really sounds like you want me to move in with you.”

The corners of Snape mouth turned down. “I've assumed our association has not been terminated.”

Harry's laughter died in his throat. “Severus,” he placed the birdcage in the ground and moved forward, until he was pinning the man against the wall. He stood on his toes to kiss the man. Snape returned the kiss, cradling Harry's head in his hands. The kiss was a slow exploration, after months and months of separation. Harry was acquainted anew with the taste of his lover's mouth, his pace, his heat. His heart was beating rapidly, when they broke apart.

 _“_ I love you,” his said with feeling. Snape eyes flashed at him. “But you're going to go mad with me looming in front of you everyday day of the week.”

Snape's hands traced his back and then his thighs. He looked like a man about to ravish something forbidden. “Allow me to decide if I'm ready to live with you, Potter.”

 _“_ Just remember, if you ever get tired of seeing my face, I have a house I can live in.”

Snape traced Harry's chin with his feather. “It is time.”

Harry broke their embrace to pick up his owl. They held on to the different end of the feather, as Snape looked at his watch. “Three, two, one,” he counted.

Harry's body was pulled into the whirlwind of color. He clutched his birdcage, rushing into the unknown. He still didn't know which house Severus picked. He sensed it didn't matter.

 

He was going home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The journey has ended. I hope you liked the story! 
> 
> I never know how to tag my fic, so any suggestion for additional tags I could add to this work would be welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> The story is already finished. It will be updated regularly.


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